Trials, Trips and Tribulations
by GallyGee
Summary: Trip faces a trying time, particularly where a certain Armory Officer, beagles and full lozenge disclosure are concerned. – CHAPTER 8 UP COMPLETE
1. Default Chapter

Disclaimer: I do not own the characters or universe of Star Trek. I am making no financial gain from this story.

A/N: This is Trip's view of the events of Part 3 of 'Operation Bamboozle' and more. It is not necessary to have read 'Operation Bamboozle' to understand this story.

No spoilers. The story takes place in Season 2.

Many thanks to G.Eliot for the invaluable input.

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**Trials, Trips and Tribulations**

**By GallyGee**

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**Chapter 1**

So, I was late for breakfast. It seems like it doesn't matter how many socks I've got, there's never a matching pair of the darned things. I know - most of them are black, but they're different shades of black. I know, I know… who except me will ever see them? But on this ship, you never know when you are going to end up stranded with some gorgeous alien. It happens more often than you might think. Then having socks that match matters.

When I got to the Mess Hall, it was full of people. I'd never seen it so full before! Then I realized. Most of these people were here for the same reason as me - to track their investment. I sucked my teeth at that. We're going to have to employ fancy footwork here, otherwise the object of our attention would find out for sure. I didn't want to be around when that happened!

Travis had grabbed a strategic position nearest to the Captain's private dining room. Yeah - that figured. I bet he'd been there for hours. I saw he'd kept a seat for me, as I'd asked. I'd planned ahead - I wanted to be at the heart of the action.

Now, one advantage of getting to the Mess Hall later than most everyone else, is that there isn't a scramble to get at stuff. The disadvantage is that there isn't much 'stuff' to choose from.

I flipped through the hatches and did my best with what was left. There was one position had an almost full plate, but looking at the bright translucent green jello-type mound, I agreed with the majority and swore off it. Someone had been adventurous though - there was a large scoop taken from the side of it.

I took my spoils over to Travis' table.

"Morning, Commander," he said, all suppressed excitement. This was his biggest 'project' to date. Virtually the whole crew was in on it.

"Morning, Travis. What've I missed?"

Travis grinned. "He's gone in. He didn't look very happy about it. I've got a timer running."

Travis pulled out a PADD and laid it on the table. He studied it and said, "A couple of people have already lost the timing bet. They predicted five minutes."

I shook my head. "Never underestimate Malcolm. He can dig deep when he needs to." Malcolm's tough. I didn't think he'd give in easily.

So - how long could he stick water polo? My money - literally - was on him surviving the current session, the one tonight - the Captain's invited Malcolm to watch a game over dinner - and then one more session. Then he'll crack.

My prediction: he'll tell the Captain he can't take any more three days into his ordeal.

I hadn't been able to decide on _how_ he would crack. In the end, I went for 'rampage with phase pistol'. I wondered again if I should change that. Somehow, I think our Armory Officer will turn out to be more imaginative, despite the impression he can give. Plus the odds weren't that great anyway, 'cause a lot of people had the same idea as me.

It was only then I saw what Travis had on his plate - the green jello. Seen close-up, it had black lines tracing their wobbly way through its slimy mass.

"Travis, what _is_ that stuff?"

"I dunno. No one else was trying it, so I thought I'd be adventurous. After all, we are explorers." He hadn't touched it by the looks of things, but with an audience to impress - me - he took a spoonful and shoved it in his mouth. He performed some facial contortions. It didn't seem to be a hit.

"What's it taste like?" I asked, as he finally managed to swallow it.

"Um. Odd. Like um... frogspawn with pepper mixed in… and lime… paint stripper…" Travis ran his tongue over his lips and took a large swig of orange juice.

"Yuk! Sounds disgusting." No way was I going to try that!

Then I did a double take. "Travis – did you say frogspawn?! What does that taste like anyway? _How_ do you know what it tastes like?" He was a boomer, wasn't he? How many ponds had he been near?

"Well, hydroponics bays, kids... you know how it is."

I didn't, but I was quite happy to take his word on that. I noticed he'd put his spoon down. "I can't say I blame you for giving up."

Travis didn't seem that enthusiastic, but rising to the challenge once more, he took another spoonful all the same. "It's… okay," he said doubtfully, chewing away.

"Yeah, but where did it come from?" Chef picks up all manner of new things to try out here, but we hadn't had this item before.

At that moment another latecomer arrived - Hoshi. She'd obviously heard what I said and answered, "It's one of the foods the Growarths traded. They call it…" and then she made the most extraordinary noise that I couldn't hope to repeat, even if I had the vocal chords for it. The people around us gave her some funny looks.

"Is there an easier name?" I asked, not expecting there to be one. But I was in luck.

"Yes, there is," said Hoshi, watching Travis make headway with the green gloop. "It translates as 'unripe stomach tissue'. The more mature version could be called 'full moldy stomach tissue'."

Travis stopped chewing. His nostrils flared and his eyes bulged, but he was too polite to spit it out. He swallowed and then gargled with his orange juice. Lots of orange juice. I'm afraid I laughed at him. I had no option if I wanted to avoid rupturing myself.

Hoshi was laughing too. "There's plenty left, Travis. I think you're the only one who likes it."

"Uh huh. Not any more, thanks. I'm gonna ease up on exploring for a bit!"

Hoshi jerked her head toward the Captain's dining room. "How's he doing?"

Travis was still preoccupied in trying to cleanse his palate, so I replied, "He's been in longer than five minutes. What did you go for?"

Hoshi said, "A week."

I raised an eyebrow. "That's some time. Most people are going for much shorter than that."

"Ahh, yes. But never underestimate the power of embarrassment."

I gazed at her with some respect. She was right! Malcolm can't stand being embarrassed. It's what makes him such a fun target. I suddenly wished that I had opted for longer. Considerably longer… like years, perhaps, although collecting my winnings might pose a logistical problem…

"What about you, Commander?" Hoshi broke into my calculations.

"Um. I've gone for three days, but I'm wondering if I should change it. Travis…?"

"No. No changes allowed on timing. I made that clear from the beginning, otherwise it gets too complicated. You can choose another 'how he cracks' if you want, though."

Hmm. I decided I better boost Malcolm's self esteem, try to counteract the embarrassment factor - call that 'EF' - to give him the guts to say 'no' to the Captain in a shorter timeframe.

So, perhaps this should be an inequality? When SE is greater than EF… and then take into account 'water polo effect' - WP - as a function of number - a stronger effect for higher numbers as the pressure grows… possibly use tensor arithmetic for differences between the Captain's dining room and watching in his quarters… Would traveling at warp have any effect…?

I was just making some progress with the equations defining my new theory, when the door to the Mess Hall opened and a crowd of medics rushed in, Phlox among them. They swept past and into the Captain's dining room.

I shot to my feet and ran after them. "Everyone, keep back!" I ordered, as the other diners tried to see what was going on.

I got to the door and peered in. Malcolm was unconscious on the floor, Phlox already kneeling at his side and running a scanner across him. The Captain was there, standing over them, and clearly shook up.

Malcolm looked terrible - very pale - but I could see he was breathing. I wondered if it was one of his allergies kicking in. He's had trouble with them before. Surely he hadn't tried the 'unripe stomach tissue'? I mean, Malcolm even has his doubts over meatloaf, and by my reckoning that is one of Chef's glories.

"Captain - what happened?" I said, raising my voice to make myself heard over the water polo commentary still running in the background.

The Captain didn't answer me but asked Phlox. "How is he?"

Phlox stood up, gesturing to his medics to get Malcolm onto the gurney they had brought along. He gave a reassuring smile. "Nothing serious, I am pleased to report. Lieutenant Reed should make a rapid and full recovery. Now - let's get him to Sick Bay."

They efficiently wheeled him off through the crowd of people craning to get a view of the patient.

The Captain paused at the Mess Hall door and addressed us all. "The Doc says Lieutenant Reed is okay and will be better in no time. Thank you all for your concern." He gave us a tight smile and then left.

Of course, what everyone was concerned about, once we knew he was going to be okay - we are not totally heartless, you know - was how it affected the betting pool. Travis was besieged.

"People!" he proclaimed. "Until we find out what has happened, I am declaring this a false start. I will reset the times and begin again this evening, when Lieutenant Reed is scheduled to watch water polo at dinner with the Captain. I reserve the right to change the conditions depending on what happened here this morning, when I get more details."

That seemed to satisfy most people, although there were some mutterings from those who realized people with extra-short times were back in with a chance, and from those who felt that Travis was changing the rules as he went along - which he was, of course.

Travis waved everyone away and said to me, "Commander, do you think you can find out what went on in there?"

I wasn't too happy at being designated a spy. "I don't know, Travis, what with medical confidentiality and all."

Travis gazed at me with his most appealing look. I've got no doubt he practices that in front of a mirror. "Yeah, but if Malcolm tells you when you ask him, there's no reason why you can't tell me, is there? If he wanted to keep something secret he wouldn't tell anyone at all, would he? Anyway, it's the water polo I really need to know about - not his medical condition."

"I guess I might be able to find something out." I knew I sounded reluctant, because I was.

I was going to have to think about this. I won't betray a confidence, but then, why would Malcolm want it to be confidential? It was only water polo and breakfast, after all's said and done.

"Commander?"

I said to Travis, "Okay, I'll see what I can do, but I'm not promising anything."

"That's all I ask, " said Travis, beaming broadly. He obviously thought the deed was done and I would deliver full information to him in no time.

I couldn't help myself. "Your 'unripe stomach tissue' is waiting for you." I pointed to the sagging helping on the side of his plate.

"Commander!" Travis protested, looking a little green around the gills, his smile vanishing in an instant.

"You should've asked what it was first," I said with a grin. "First rule of exploring - don't eat anything before finding out what it is!"

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I was physically in Engineering, but my mind was elsewhere, trying to make sense of the breakfast happenings. Now see, that wasn't nosiness, that was true concern for my friend. And I wanted to know what happened too, of course.

So - what _had_ happened? It could have been an allergic reaction. I couldn't think what else it might be. I know Malcolm's been kinda… obsessive about unarmed combat training recently, but I didn't think even he would take it far enough to try a session at breakfast. Was it possible the Captain had landed him a lucky blow? But then, the Captain didn't have any extra bruises to add to his collection. None that I could see, leastways.

As I wasn't doing any good where I was, I decided to swing by Sick Bay - not only for Travis' need for intelligence, but also to make sure that Malcolm was indeed recovering okay.

When I got to Sick Bay, Malcolm was nowhere to be seen. Phlox was bustling around and didn't notice my arrival.

"Doc."

Phlox spun about. "Ah! Commander Tucker! I didn't hear you come in. My mind was on other matters. What can I do for you?"

"Well-" I stopped as I saw one of his eyes was partly closed and had bruising around it. "What happened to you, Doc?"

Phlox gave an unamused grunt. "Lieutenant Reed 'happened'," he said. "Or rather, his fist did."

"He _hit_ you?!" I couldn't believe my ears. I know Malcolm has some strange opinions about Phlox but I couldn't believe he would just assault him.

"Yes. He _claimed_ that he was disoriented when he came around."

I relaxed a little at that, despite the doubt in Phlox's voice. I reassured him, "Ahh, yes. He does have a hair-trigger when he's startled."

I rubbed my jaw, remembering the recent occasion when I crept up on him and did my impression of a water polo commentary - purely in fun, I must emphasize. It had not produced a 'fun' response.

"How is Malcolm?"

Phlox's chin jutted out. "Harrumph. Well, I treated him, despite his treatment of me."

Was that a joke? I smiled to humor him.

Phlox carried on. "I've released Lieutenant Reed from Sick Bay and told him to take the rest of the day off. He'll be back to normal in no time." He turned away and began counting up some slugs oozing their way around a cage. I didn't like to think what they were used for!

I pumped for more information. "What was the matter with him? Was it an allergic reaction?"

Phlox paused his slug-count and frowned at me. "You know perfectly well I can't discuss another person's medical condition with you, Commander. How would you like it if I told Lieutenant Reed about your-"

I hastily interrupted him. "Yeah, yeah, I know. Forget I asked."

"Are you feeling anxious, Commander?" Phlox prodded one of his slugs, which oozed some more goo. "You seem on edge. Can I get you something for it?"

"No, no I'm fine, really I am. I'll go see Malcolm. Make sure he's okay."

"Be careful, Commander. While I have no reason to believe he is likely to prove a danger - otherwise he would still be under restraint - human beings often exhibit unexpected behaviors. He did seem somewhat… agitated when he left here. However, the Captain insisted he should be allowed to return to his quarters, unless I had a definite reason to keep him in. Which I didn't."

He sounded real sad about that. I was suddenly glad the Captain had been around to plead Malcolm's cause. I mean, I know Malcolm can be annoying and everything, but he spends far too much time in Sick Bay as it is.

As I made my way to Malcolm's quarters, I thought about what had happened in Sick Bay.

Did Phlox say Malcolm had been under restraint? Oh boy, that wouldn't go down too well! No wonder he was agitated. I hoped he was calmer now, so I could pry the required info out of him.

I wondered if Malcolm had hit Phlox deliberately, using his apparent confusion as a cover. I wouldn't put it past him, although from my personal experience it probably had been a reflex response. I rubbed my jaw, remembering again that fake commentary I did.

I had sneaked up behind Malcolm when he was concentrating on a readout in the Armory. I know, I know! How stupid can I get? I got real close then started in on my water polo commentary. "Brown swims over to..."

Huh. I didn't even get that much out. Before I know it, I'm on the deck nursing my chin. Teeth do rattle when you're hit in the right place, I discovered.

Malcolm was very embarrassed. He turned bright red and started stuttering his apologies.

I let him stew a little while I tried to rub some feeling back into my jaw. I gave him a look (I can do 'looks' too - Malcolm's not the only master of the art) which said 'Yeah, Lieutenant… hitting a superior officer. Not a smart thing to do, is it?'

I sat there on my ass, giving him the eye while he virtually turned himself inside out. That paid him back for a few stunts he's being trying with me lately, like trying to muscle in on Movie Night.

But then I relented. I guess creeping up on him like that had been stupid. I couldn't blame him for it. So, soft guy I am, I told him not to worry, and even went as far as to apologize.

He looked at me like he didn't quite believe me. If our positions were reversed, I've got no doubt he'd pin everything he could on me. On principle of course - nothing personal, you understand. God! I hope no one really gets on the wrong side of him. He'll have them court martialed and breaking rocks as quick as you can say suffering catfish!

Yeah - he's still a work in progress there. He's loosened up since he came on board but there's still a long way to go before he's 'safe'!

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I went to Malcolm's quarters to see how he was, of course. Also, to see if I could get an inside track on my investment. Perhaps even give a boost to the 'self esteem factor'.

He took his time answering the door. I was surprised to see he was still in uniform, despite being stood down for the rest of the day.

"Trip."

He didn't seem too enthusiastic to see me. Positively icy, to tell the truth. It is really something how he manages to say so much without hardly opening his mouth. Now he was telling me to get lost.

Of course, I pretended not to understand Malcolm-speak. Instead, I gave him my best cheery smile. "Hi, Malcolm. I thought I'd drop by and see how you are. Can I come in?"

He hesitated - and was lost. I powered forward and he had no option but to fall back, that is, unless he wanted to get into a 'scene' with me, and as I have already noted, Malcolm doesn't do well with 'scenes'. He prefers to stew in silence.

I glanced around. As usual everything was in its place, properly squared up relative to the straight edges in the room. I peered closer at the strangely-shaped lump on the shelf over his bunk. Hoshi had mentioned seeing it. She said it was supposed to be a sculpture of an animal of some kind - she couldn't tell what. I thought it was just - a mess. Although looking closer, I thought I could detect an ear, yes - two ears, eyes… she was right… another ear? There was something very wrong with this.

Malcolm interposed himself between me and the object, whatever it was.

"I'm fine, Trip."

He crossed his arms, exuding waves of un-welcome.

"I'm glad to hear it!" I slumped down onto his desk chair, brushing away some PADDs with my arm. Malcolm darted over to gather them up from the desk. With another frosty look at me, he found somewhere else for them where they could stay in tidy bliss together.

He remained standing, looking down his nose at me, and trying to get me to leave by sheer force of will.

I simply grinned. That might work on a green ensign, but not on me. I said, "I saw what you did to Phlox."

I could see various emotions playing across his face as he considered how to answer me.

Some people think Malcolm is as expressionless as a Vulcan most of the time, but like Vulcans, you just need to know how to read him. It's the eyes, if you're looking for a tip. His face might be set like stone, but he can't prevent a quick flash of whatever it is he is feeling before the shutters come down.

This time, I could see self-satisfaction, unholy glee and worry. The last one won out, as is often the case with him.

Malcolm abandoned his 'I'm so superior' pose and dropped down onto his bunk. He loosely clasped his hands together in front of him.

He said, "I didn't know it was Phlox. It was a mistake."

He doesn't like to make mistakes. I saw the scraped area on the knuckles of his right hand. He caught the direction of my gaze and squirmed a little, quickly covering the evidence with his other hand.

"Yeah. I can believe that," I said. "That's what I told Phlox."

He looked alarmed. "Didn't he believe me?"

I reassured Malcolm. "Oh, yeah. I vouched for you. I'm sure he knows it was an accident."

Malcolm nodded, relaxing back a little. He spoiled his case, though, by muttering how he wouldn't be stupid enough to attack 'the quack' on purpose.

"He's not a quack!" I said. After all he performs good work. Most of it on Malcolm. I don't know why he complains so much about Phlox.

Malcolm glared at me and dropped his head. He muttered again under his breath - Malcolm is a skilled mutterer - fidgeting away. I guessed he wanted to start pacing but my being there cramped his style.

They didn't sound to be the friendliest comments, from what I could pick up. I don't know why he's got it in for Phlox, but the guy can't do anything right if you listened to everything Malcolm says about him.

So - what had really happened at breakfast? As our conversation had petered out, I decided it was time to find out all.

"So, Malcolm. Are you okay now?" I put on my most concerned face and leaned forward.

He scowled at me and I rapidly pulled back.

"Well?" I prompted. "Are you okay?"

He said, with a dose of suspicion, "Why shouldn't I be 'okay'?"

I shrugged. "I saw you getting carted off to Sick Bay - unconscious."

He froze his impatient jiggling and a deep blush illuminated his face. Hmm? Embarrassment or annoyance? A mix of both, I reckoned.

"You saw…?" He ran his tongue along his lower lip. "Ahh, yes," he said, putting as much meaning as he could into the words. Meaning: I don't want to talk about it. He clamped his mouth shut in a tight line and crossed his arms. Yeah: I got the message. 'Go away. I don't want to talk.'

Got the message and… Tough!

"So - what happened?" I was not going to let him get away that easy.

"Noth- "

He stopped abruptly as he realized there were likely too many people as witnesses to claim it was nothing. He changed tack. "Uhh. Was the Mess Hall very busy?" There was a plaintive quality to this question.

I grinned at him. He licked his lips and tried a nonchalant grin back. Nope - don't buy that either, Mister Reed!

I can be nasty when I want. I laid it on thick. "Oh yeah. Cram full! Never seen so many people there!"

He went from red to sheet white in nanoseconds. That was amazing and kinda worrying. Didn't that mean his blood flow was racing around at warp speed? I felt guilty about it. I tried a more sympathetic approach. After all, he is my friend.

"Are you alright, Malcolm? Anything I can do?" Aren't you supposed to shove their head between their knees or something? Or give them hot tea? "What happened?"

He blinked and thought a moment, his color evening out to a bright pink. "Err, I hit my head."

"When?" I could swear he had only been sitting on his bunk. How could he have done that?

"Uhh, when I was at breakfast with the Captain."

Oh. At breakfast. But-

"How?" There are no low beams in the Captain's dining room. And Malcolm's not exactly the tallest crewmember, is he?

"I slipped. Fell over."

"What? You're kidding?" The decking meets full safety standards. That simply shouldn't happen. I wondered if the Captain had entered an accident report yet. It needed to be added to the Agenda for the next Health and Safety meeting.

Malcolm turned his head and waved a hand vaguely at the evidence. "Look, Trip."

Well, yeah. There was a large lump on the back of his head. "Nasty. What's that pale yellow stuff on it?" I didn't like to say it looked like gunk. Nasty gunk.

"Oh. It's supposed to be a healing gel from one of the Doctor's creatures. You know, the transparent… er… something or other. Anyway, Phlox told me not to wash it off yet."

"Oh." It looked… horrible. That explained why he hadn't got changed out of his uniform, though.

Malcolm gave me a glassy stare and then said, "Excuse me." He grabbed something from a box and stuffed it in his mouth. "Medicine," he explained indistinctly, as he chewed.

Amazing! The Doc had managed to get him to take his medication without standing over him with a baseball bat - metaphorically speaking, of course. Although, I think sometimes Phlox wished he had the real thing available in his medical kit.

Perhaps it was the effect of that bump to the head that was making Malcolm more amenable?

Malcolm certainly was becoming a lot calmer. He relaxed back with his eyes closed and appeared to drift off. I found that a tad worrying. Aren't you supposed to keep people that have had head injuries awake?

"Hey! Malcolm!" I exerted prudence and did not give him a shake - not yet. I would if my words had no effect, but I didn't want to end up in Sick Bay myself if I could help it. I crossed my fingers and hoped for a response.

Malcolm opened one eye partway, and gave a small smile. "Yes, Trip?"

"Are you sure you're okay?" I was poised to call Phlox, to tell the truth. I couldn't quite put my finger on it, but there was something out of kilter here. "You seem a little… out of it."

Malcolm slowly pushed himself more upright and fully opened both eyes. "Yeah. I feel fine. " He sounded surprised. "Very good, actually…" He gave me a broader smile.

This was not the man who had wanted to bounce me out of his quarters a moment ago. He did seem more content, though. What could I say to Phlox? That the Lieutenant was relaxed, happy and calm, whereas really he should be wound up as tight as a watch spring and ready to explode.

Perhaps Phlox's medicine was working?

I decided not to concern myself anymore with medical matters. I still had more digging to do. I crossed my legs, leaned back and said casually, "All set for this evening?"

Malcolm gazed at me perplexed.

I enlightened him. "The water polo? With the Captain?"

Malcolm inhaled sharply, then let his breath out in stages. "Ahh. The water polo. Um. Yes…The Captain and I…"

He stopped and took another deep breath.

"Yeah? What?"

"The Captain and I have decided to discontinue our water polo sessions. By mutual consent." He gave a huge smile.

I could not believe it.

After all that fuss Malcolm'd made beforehand, all that messing about trying to get out of it: just like that - no more water polo. They hadn't even watched any at breakfast – they can't have done! Malcolm was only in the Captain's dining room for a few minutes.

I absolutely couldn't believe it! It didn't make sense. 'Mutual consent' Malcolm had said? I knew for a fact Malcolm couldn't even contemplate doing the sensible thing, and go explain to the Captain that it had all been a big mistake - that he wasn't interested in the sport after all. He'd spent enough time whining to me about his problem!

And 'mutual' - that meant the Captain was in full agreement too! That was even more unbelievable. The Captain had been crowing for days about finally getting Malcolm interested in a sport, and considering it happened to be his beloved water polo, to boot - that was the icing on the cake.

There was nothing – nothing! – that would have induced the Captain to abandon his plans to educate Malcolm in 'the most fantastic sport ever'.

Only Malcolm begging the Captain to desist would have done it. And Malcolm would never do that. Not yet, anyhow.

Harry Houdini had nothing on Malcolm Reed.

I felt my head start to spin. Malcolm was watching me with huge amusement.

I wanted to inquire further, to get to the bottom of this mystery. How had he done it? I opened my mouth to ask him. But then I saw the most smug, self-satisfied grin ever to grace Malcolm Reed's face, and could not give him the pleasure. No way!

I stumbled out a: "Uhh. That's great. For you, I mean. Uhh. Mutual consent, huh?"

"Yes. Mutual consent." Accompanied by another smirk. He knew I was desperate to know more, and that what he had just told me was meaningless.

He was virtually daring me to ask, to probe deeper, but I refused to give in to him.

Suddenly, I had had enough. Friend or no friend, there is only so much a man can take of that! There was another source of information - the Captain. Malcolm was not that crucial, whatever he might think, the arrogant…

"Well." I said, forcing a smile. "I'm pleased you're feeling better. I better get back to Engineering now."

"Okay, Trip. Thanks for calling." He was almost laughing at me. I could see him battling to keep a straight face.

"Right. No problem."

I let myself out and marched off down the corridor, with no answers but a big mystery. Then I realized all bets were off. Enterprise would be an unhappy ship when everyone heard about that. It had been the talking point for days, and to have no proper resolution… Well, it wouldn't go down too good.

Oh well, that was for Travis to sort out. I had the infinitely easier task of dealing with that plasma injector problem. I could forget about the Great Water Polo Escape... couldn't I?

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TBC 


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: as Chapter 1.

A/N: Thank you to everyone who took time to review. I do appreciate it.

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**Chapter 2**

After spending some time in Engineering catching up on things, I found that I actually forgot about Malcolm for a while. Engineering has a habit of doing that for me - soothing away unwanted little irritations… like Malcolm.

There was a problem with the plasma injectors, and I wanted to tackle it before it turned into a major headache.

It kicked in at high warp. A little glitch in the plasma stream, starting at one injector - not always the same one - and then rippling along the flow and dragging the others out of sync. It didn't cause a big effect, but it was there. I was pretty sure it was centered on the pre-distorter before whichever injector was affected.

I reckoned the feedback algorithms needed a tweak. If my proposed adjustments to the first injector assembly checked out okay, we could do the same with the other four. It would be complicated because they're all interrelated, but, providing we had a stable system, we could do it with a little effort on everyone's part.

Feeling like I'd done a useful job, I left my team working through the re-calibrations and tests on number one injector assembly, and set off for the Bridge.

I wanted to have a word with the Captain about the Accident Book, because I saw there was no entry yet for Malcolm's accident at breakfast. Of course, if I could find out exactly what had happened that morning… well, that wouldn't go amiss, either.

The more I thought about Malcolm's insistence that he'd 'slipped', well, I just wasn't buying it. Standard Starfleet issue boots plus decking are a high friction system - no slippage worth mentioning. There had to be more to it than that. There was something he wasn't telling me.

Come to think of it, he'd been at pains to distract me, hadn't he, by diverting my attention to that lump on his head? He never really gave a satisfactory reason for what caused the accident.

I did wonder if I was being a tad obsessive, but the safety of the decking and all demanded my attention. Yeah - just doing my job - that was it. A perfectly normal response, right?

And then there was the main mystery: how had Malcolm managed to avoid water polo so easily and so soon? Not that that was the main reason to go see the Captain, oh no, not at all.

Honest.

The Captain wasn't on the bridge but Travis was, doing his usual good work in piloting us. He was still upright, so I assumed his unconventional breakfast choice of moldy stomach lining had had no side-effects.

"Is the Captain in his Ready Room?" I asked Hoshi.

She broke off from making little Growarth-influenced mewing noises and nodded. "Yes, Commander."

I hoped she was concentrating on words for food items. I didn't want to get any nasty surprises there. Travis can do my share of exploring where that is involved.

Travis looked at me over his shoulder with a Vulcanesque-lift of an eyebrow. I gave him a shrug. He would just have to wait to hear about my conversation with Malcolm. At least after my meeting with the Captain, I should have a better idea as to what had happened that morning, and what was going on with the water polo.

Travis was not going to be happy when I told him that according to Malcolm, it was completely scrapped. Better he remain in blissful ignorance for a little while longer.

The Captain was working away on his terminal when I entered his Ready Room.

"Hi, Trip. Everything okay in Engineering?" He waved me to the couch.

"Yes, Sir. I've got to the bottom of that injector problem I was concerned about. We're working on it now."

"Good, good…" He seemed rather vague, flustered even.

"Captain? Is everything okay?" I hadn't heard of any worrying developments, but shut away in Engineering, it can be easy to lose track if you're not on the ball. Had the Growarths come back?

"Uhh." The Captain waved at his display. "Malcolm's asking me if I want to resume unarmed combat training with him."

I shuddered reflexively, and the Captain gave me a sheepish grin.

"Do you _want_ to?" I looked at the latest bruise - still prominent on one cheekbone. I couldn't believe the Captain allowed himself to submit to that 'cruel and unusual' training. Hell - he's the Captain, after all!

"Well… I suppose I should try to keep in practice." The Captain looked at me ruefully.

"Yeah, but there's keeping in practice, and there's being put out of action."

He said quietly to himself, "Uhh, I suppose I could ask him to ease up a little…" He looked at me. "Do you think that would work?"

I shrugged helplessly. That was a pretty forlorn hope, in my view. Malcolm takes 'training' far too seriously. There's never a fun element in it for anyone - except for him, that is.

The Captain grimaced. Then, coming to a decision, he said briskly, "Perhaps I'll leave it for a while, until I'm in better shape. That's probably the best course." He tapped away at his terminal. "I've got a complaint here from Phlox about that-"

"Oh, Sir! I'm sure that was a genuine error."

"What was?"

"Malcolm assaulting Phlox in Sick Bay."

"Oh, that. Yes, well, I'd agree with you there, and I've told Phlox that too. No - what the Doctor is concerned about is that Lieutenant Reed has scheduled him for unarmed combat practice."

"What!" Phlox _and_ the Captain marked men for unarmed combat training! I was beginning to think I'd got off lightly following my conversation with Malcolm, unless… I felt a sudden chill settle over me. Unless there was a message waiting for me? The Captain must've seen my concern.

"Trip - everything okay?"

I shook myself and gave a grin. I'd worry about that if the time came. I have certain methods of dealing with Malcolm. He wouldn't get me that easily!

"Yeah, Captain. I'm fine. What are you going to tell Phlox?"

He pulled at his lip, his indecision obvious. I knew exactly what he was thinking: which one of them was it less politic to annoy? I am glad I am not the Captain. Engineering poses sufficient challenge for me, and more importantly, a challenge that can be met. When you're Captain, sometimes it's a no-win situation.

"I can't decide. Phlox is behind on his training hours, but on the other hand…"

I thought of an 'out' for him. "Malcolm isn't one hundred percent yet. Perhaps for his own good he should skip it?"

The Captain brightened, but then sighed. "No. Malcolm's only off-duty for today. He's trying to arrange this for tomorrow, the first one of the series anyway."

"So," I tried to sound casual, "The Doctor was right about Malcolm not being too ill?"

"Yeah… " The Captain wasn't really listening to me. He was frowning at the message on his screen. "I dunno… perhaps I better give it more thought…"

Interesting he didn't pick up on 'ill' - more than a bump on the head involved, then, hmm? Now was the time to strike. It had to be an allergy, right?

I said, "How long does it normally take to clear?"

"Umm, I - How long does what take to clear, Trip?"

"Uhh… what happened at breakfast this morning… Uhh, that thing that Malcolm's got, you know…"

"Yes, I know."

"And...?"

"And I'm not telling you a thing, Commander! It is none of your business, unless Malcolm chooses to share it with you. He obviously hasn't."

"Yeah, but I'm sure he wouldn't mind me knowing, so I don't say the wrong thing to him. I'm his friend, after all."

"Well, ask him yourself then."

That stumped me. "Uhh, okay, but I don't like to disturb him." I didn't actually lie. Just didn't tell him I'd already tried that approach once, without a result.

"He's already 'disturbed'," muttered the Captain.

I snorted, as did the Captain. Then he looked guilty.

"I shouldn't have said that," he said quickly. "It was only a joke."

I grinned at him. "Yeah, I know. Uhh, so, Malcolm will be okay for watching water polo tonight, then? He'll be better by then?" Now it would come out.

The Captain's face dropped. For a moment he seemed almost - bereft. He let out a heavy sigh and gave a single slow, sad shake of his head. "Canceled, I'm afraid, Trip. Malcolm and I won't be watching any water polo together. Ever."

I feigned shock. "What! But you were so looking forward to teaching Malcolm about it. What happened?"

"We decided not to, because…. Well..."

"Yes? Because…?" I asked, trying not to fall off the front of the couch as I leaned forward.

He gave me a sad smile. "We agreed it was best."

"Why?" I tried to sound like a concerned friend who's only asking out of politeness' sake. It never does to appear too eager in these sorts of situations.

"I'm sorry, Trip. I'd rather not talk about it."

I ground my teeth in frustration. Why were both the Captain and Malcolm being so unforthcoming about it all? Just to torture me?

Before I could have another go at the puzzle of the Great Water Polo Escape, the Captain switched topic. "Have you chosen the movie program for the next few weeks?"

"What has Malcolm said about that?" I couldn't keep the irritation out of my voice. Malcolm will insist on meddling in things that don't concern him.

I was still sore about Malcolm's lousy attempt to blackmail me into changing the last movie. He actually had the nerve to threaten me - said he would include something in his Security Reports about 'reckless endangerment' if I showed 'Aliens'! Sometimes I think he should have a title other than Security Chief - it gives him delusions of power. He can be a jumped up, little…

"Trip?" The Captain's voice snapped me back. "Are you feeling all right? You seem a little… pink."

"I'm fine!" I ground out, unlocking my jaw.

I wished I had gone ahead with 'Aliens' after all, but I felt sorry for T'Pol, as it happened - because of the incident after 'Alien' was shown. Being mistaken as a homicidal android by a crazy hydroponics Crewman, well... Let's just say, being drenched in liquid fertilizer isn't the most fragrant thing in the world.

Malcolm didn't believe me when I told him that was why I had changed the program. He'd gone strutting about, completely insufferable. Fine, I thought, in that case… I'd told the disgruntled audience that it was all his doing. Served him right. He had been the most unpopular man on the ship with a certain sector of the crew - those sophisticated enough to appreciate Movie Night.

I realized the Captain was peering at me with some concern. "You don't look fine."

I said again, "What has he been saying?" I wondered what 'security' excuse Malcolm had come up with to further disrupt my program. I didn't see what was wrong with showing 'Event Horizon' next week. Mind you, he didn't know about that yet, did he?

"Malcolm? Nothing! I didn't think the movie program had anything to do with him?" The Captain looked mystified.

"Well, no. It doesn't. He hasn't said anything, then? About security?"

"No. What _is_ the matter?"

"Nothing. Nothing at all. So - you wanted to know…?"

"What movies are coming up? I like to see a mix - it's good for morale. We can't have horror movies and sci-fi all the time, you know."

"Last time we saw 'West Side Story'." Will I _ever_ live that down? Damn Malcolm!

"I wish I had known about that. I would have liked to see it. You need better publicity, Trip."

"Uhh, yeah." But not for that sort of movie.

"So…?" The Captain was relentless.

"I've got a 'mix' lined up."

I could state that with a clear conscience. After all, every movie is unique, isn't it? Even a remake? The Captain didn't look convinced, but he never turns up for Movie Night, anyway, so he'll never notice how broad a mix - or not - it is.

"No more musicals?" He sounded kinda wistful.

"Sorry. We had one recently. As you say, we need a good variety."

"Yeah. I guess."

I could almost see the cogs turning over in his mind. If I didn't divert him, I would find myself obliged to show his musical requests. Time to change topic again.

"So, Captain, I take it you will be updating the Accident Register after the incident this morning?"

"Well…" He trailed off and glanced away at his terminal again.

"Malcolm says he slipped over. That needs to be recorded and investigated."

"That's not necessary, Trip."

"We need to know if there are any problems. We can't have people falling over, all over the ship."

The Captain gave a little laugh. "It was a freak accident, Commander. I don't think it need concern us."

"Still…"

"Don't worry - it won't happen again."

I shook my head slowly, "As Chairperson of the Health and Safety-"

"It will not be a problem - trust me."

I gazed doubtfully at him. "What did happen - exactly? Perhaps we should check out the grav plating in that section." I suddenly had a vision of people all over the ship randomly flying up into the air then coming to Earth - so to speak - with a bang.

The Captain gave an unconvincing laugh. "No, it wasn't a technical fault. You wouldn't believe me!"

"Try me!"

The Captain looked me directly in the eye and said solemnly, "Malcolm tripped, Trip."

Argh! The number of times I have heard that feeble excuse for a joke! I thought the Captain was above that. Obviously not. He must've seen my pained expression.

"Sorry, Trip. I couldn't resist."

"Yeah, well…"

"He didn't slip over on the decking or even anything _on_ the decking. He just sorta got tangled up in himself. Malcolm doesn't want to make a big deal of it. I think he's embarrassed - it's not like him to get all uncoordinated like that."

"An isolated incident, then?"

"Absolutely."

"I guess we can let it slide. As long as Malcolm's not going to sue Starfleet for unsafe working conditions or anything." After all, considering what else he's gone through, it's pretty insignificant stuff.

"I guarantee he won't."

I nodded. I don't like leaving things like this unresolved, but without the Captain and Malcolm's will to follow through, there was little the Health and Safety Committee could do about it anyway.

I sighed. This had not been the productive discussion I had hoped for. Time to return to more satisfying matters.

"Right, Sir. I better get back to Engineering. There's still a lot to do on the injector assemblies."

"Right then, Commander. Dismissed."

I left deep in thought, and no further forward in discovering why there were not going to be any cozy water polo get-togethers. Travis caught my eye as I crossed the bridge. I was not surprised when he excused himself for a break period and followed me into the turbolift.

"Commander?" He was eager to learn the truth.

"Sorry, Travis. Nothing."

"Nothing?" He was disbelieving. "Nothing at all?"

"Yep. According to Malcolm, the water polo was discontinued by mutual consent and-"

Travis interrupted, wide-eyed. "Discontinued!"

I'd forgotten he hadn't gotten the whole picture yet.

"Yeah. 'Fraid so. No more water polo - ever - period. The Captain confirmed it."

"But practically everyone in the crew is in on it! How can I tell them the bet is off?" Travis slumped back against the wall. He looked like his entire world had ended. His most ambitious project - strangled at birth.

I shrugged. There was nothing I could do about it. Travis had other ideas.

"Commander…" he said in a wheedling tone.

"Yeah?" I answered, cautiously.

"Could you, you know, have a word with Malcolm? Persuade him he should give it at least one more try."

"What! You must be kidding me! After all he said about not wanting to watch it in the first place!"

"I'm sure he would listen to you."

"Travis - what planet are you on! What makes you think Malcolm would listen to anything I would say? If anything he would listen, and then do the complete opposite. You know how contrary he is!"

"Well then - use reverse psychology. I dunno - tell him he was right to run away or something. Imply he's being a coward but that it's okay."

I couldn't believe it. Travis wanted me to accuse Malcolm of cowardice! "There is no way I am getting involved in this, Travis. You want it so bad, you talk to him."

Travis glared at me. It wasn't like him to get annoyed, but he'd put a lot of effort into this project, and people were counting on him. He said, "Why did they decide not to carry on?"

"Like I told you - Malcolm said it was by mutual consent."

"But that doesn't mean anything."

"I know it doesn't, but it's the best I got. Now, sorry, Travis, but I really gotta get going." I left him in the turbolift with some relief.

-

The injector work was going well. Once number one was sorted out, it would stabilize the system for number two and so on. We were almost ready to begin on number two already.

I was pleased. This problem had been bugging me for some time and, at last, I was making real headway. The happy sounds of warp engine purring away and intent engineers ministering to its every need played in the background, everything as it should be.

I checked the buffers on the power drains again. As long as any changes in the main power system were compensated for, we could keep everything running normally while we worked on the injectors.

Suddenly, I heard an alarm sound - weapons' fire! According to the display, the source was on 'B' deck - Malcolm's quarters. My throat went dry at the thought of another attack. Who was it this time?

Before I could do anything about it, the alert was canceled - false alarm. Or a test, perhaps. My heart rate returned to normal. Nothing to worry about. I made a mental note to ask the Captain to let me know next time they were running a drill of this kind. It was kinda hard on the nerves.

About thirty minutes later, the Captain himself turned up in Engineering. I guessed he was coming to see how we were progressing, but his expression was grave. He had something more weighty on his mind.

"Trip."

"Captain."

"I would like a word with you - in private."

I indicated my office. He preceded me into it and I closed the door, intrigued by his manner. Then I had a terrible thought - this wasn't about Movie Night was it?

He slumped down onto a chair and bit his lip as I sat opposite him, trying to think of some way to plausibly argue that 'West Side Story' had used up the 'musicals' quota for the next five years.

The Captain said, "I wonder… could you talk to Malcolm?"

I frowned. "To Malcolm? What about?"

The Captain seemed troubled. "I'm concerned about him." He lifted his eyes. "I had to make a note on his record."

I sat up. This sounded serious. The Captain only makes things official as a last resort. He regards it as a personal failure if he can't resolve a problem before it gets that far. But Malcolm…? I couldn't conceive what he could've done. He takes a lot of persuading to go against the rules. Uhh - make that _unambiguously_ against the rules. He's quite good at twisting them, but always leaves himself wriggle room.

"Captain?"

He sighed heavily. "He had a phase pistol in his quarters."

"Oh."

That was against regulations, of course. On the other hand, I could quite imagine Malcolm would think those fell within his category of 'silly' regulations and hence not be applicable to him, the arrogant bastard. But he's smart. He would've had some fallback position. Something which would tread the line but just fall inside it, that is, with a fair wind and an understanding Captain.

"What was his reason for his having the phase pistol?" I asked.

"That's just it, Trip. He didn't give me a reason."

I stared at the Captain. This was not like Malcolm. I started to understand the Captain's uneasiness. "Oh."

"Exactly, Trip - Oh!"

"So you had to enter an official reprimand?"

He gave a wry grin. "No. I found some… creative interpretations… to convince myself it was a 'misunderstanding' - with no help from Malcolm, I might add. However, he also let a couple of shots off. In his quarters. Hence, the discovery of the illegal weapon."

My mouth dropped open. Malcolm was meticulous about fire control. It beggared belief he would fire his weapon in his quarters. I muttered, "I heard the alarm."

"Yeah. It caused a full response. I got there the same time as the security team. Plenty of witnesses, unfortunately."

"Damnation."

"Yes. He didn't have any real explanation for the wild shots, either. Claimed his pistol had gone off 'whilst he was cleaning it'. I know they are Malcolm's people but…" He spread his arms wide. "I had to make it an official reprimand."

I nodded slowly. It was one thing to bend the regulations, but quite another if it was going to send out the wrong message to the crew or show favoritism. Not to mention, who knows who had an uncle or other relative high up in Starfleet or the media. "You couldn't do anything else, Captain."

"No, I couldn't." He closed his eyes.

I waited. He seemed to be taking this to heart. I tried to help him. "Captain, I know it's difficult, but in the end, we are all responsible for our actions. Malcolm has only himself to blame. It's got nothing to do with you."

The Captain grimaced. "It does, Trip."

"No! I mean, how-"

He held up his hand to stop me. "Trip - please, go talk to him. I dunno. I think he might be… frustrated… because we had to cancel the water polo. Taken it out on his quarters. Please - see if you can get to the bottom of this."

I stared at him in bemusement. Why did everything come back to water polo on this ship? And why did the Captain still think Malcolm was enthused by it? I shook my head, trying to get the words to make some sort of sense.

"Trip?" prompted the Captain, with an underlying note of desperation.

"Uh, yes, of course, Captain. I'll talk to him. I don't know it'll do much good, though."

He said in resignation, "I know. He's not easy to get information out of, but you're my last hope. He won't talk to me."

"Okay, I'll do my best," I promised.

The Captain gave a weary smile. "That's all I ask, Trip." He got slowly to his feet and rested his hand on my shoulder. "Let me know how you get on."

"Sure."

I watched him leave, bowed down by the burdens of command, and then sat back and wondered what Malcolm thought he had been doing. I sighed. There was only one way to find out.

"Rostov," I called, "Keep on with this work on the injectors. I shouldn't be long."

I reluctantly left for Malcolm's quarters, wondering how I could broach the fact of his reprimand, and embarrassed for him.

* * *

TBC 


	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer: see Chapter 1

A/N: There's something very odd going on with the formatting. Any punctuation - even a comma -before a " is getting stripped out, unless it is a period. I'm putting them back in again. I'm also going to try some extra spaces with some. Fingers crossed...

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* * *

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**Chapter 3**

I pushed Malcolm's doorbell with some trepidation. I imagined he would be quite upset - possibly distraught- at the reprimand for firing off his phase pistol in his quarters. Starfleet was so important to him, as was doing his best - and I knew he was gunning for rapid promotion. No chance of that now, though.

He answered the door - still in uniform, I noted.

"Commander," he said, in a neutral voice.

"Can I come in, Malcolm?" I asked, trying to gauge his state of mind.

He gave an unexpected and quite brilliant smile, which took me aback. "Of course, Commander." He stepped back into his small quarters to give me room.

I looked around, not knowing how to start. I saw the evidence of the energy bolt, or bolts - the 'unauthorized discharge'. A heinous crime for an Armory officer. There was a blackened object on the shelf over Malcolm's bunk - the remains of that mysterious sculpture that had so puzzled me earlier in the day. I still didn't know what it had been in its former life, but now…

Malcolm took the initiative. "How are you, Commander?" he asked, solicitously.

"Uhh. Okay. And you?"

"Never better." Accompanied by another grin.

"Oh?" I dove in with both feet. "I find that difficult to believe."

"Why?"

"I've been speaking with the Captain."

"Oh." His face fell.

"Yes - 'oh'."

Malcolm slumped down onto his bunk. "What did he say?" he asked quietly.

"He said you were guilty of an unauthorized weapon discharge. Several in fact."

Malcolm colored and dropped his head, seemingly fascinated by his loosely clasped hands. "Yes, Commander," he mumbled, almost inaudible.

"Care to enlighten me?" I said.

"What do you mean?" Malcolm's eyes flickered up to meet my gaze.

"Well… I can't see how you would do that, Malcolm. It's not like you, is it?"

He sighed heavily, the previous good humor gone. This was more like the mood I had expected to find him in. He shrugged, and said,"We all make mistakes."

"Not you! Not this type of mistake!" I exclaimed.

Malcolm grimaced. He gave a quick shake of the hand. "Hmm. Well, you see, it went off accidentally… whilst I was cleaning-"

I interrupted. "Bullshit! You know, and I know, that isn't right!"

I had to go in strong. I guessed the Captain had already tried gentle persuasion, and he hadn't gotten anywhere.

Malcolm glanced up at me in surprise. I sat down opposite him.

"You can be truthful with me, you know," I said, encouragingly.

Malcolm looked doubtful, raising my hopes that he was about to come clean. But then he shook his head, and said with more vehemence, "As I said, it went off when I was cleaning it."

"Don't be ridiculous! I may not be a weapons' specialist, but even I know that doesn't make sense. What part were you cleaning anyway?"

Malcolm was startled. I don't suppose many people challenge him on his specialty. "Uhh. Well, you know, the emitters…" he floundered, waving a hand around and tailing off as he saw my skeptical expression.

"Huh. You don't say? Well, That won't make it go off, even if you were so stupid to clean something that doesn't need cleaning," I said, quite pleased I had managed to catch Malcolm out.

"Perhaps 'cleaning' was the wrong word. I should've said… polishing." He gave me that steely 'don't mess with me' look of his, narrowed eyes and all.

I gave a derisive laugh in return. "Polishing! You gotta be joking!"

"Not at all. I wanted to get a nice gleam to the casing and I snagged the trigger."

This was ridiculous. Beyond ridiculous. I just looked at Malcolm and he looked at me. He knew he had been caught. Rabbit, headlights, anyone?

He broke the connection, and turned away to get something from a box. He crammed it in his mouth. "Some lozenges," he explained indistinctly, as I wondered what tack to take next.

Well… the Captain wanted to know why Malcolm had been in a destructive mode. I took a deep breath and prepared to wade in with his 'water polo' hypothesis, however unlikely that was. I needed to get a definitive answer from Malcolm on this point, for the Captain's sake. I knew what Malcolm's answer would be. When I relayed it back to the Captain, at least it would put his mind at rest.

"The Captain thinks you are… frustrated- " I started, wincing as I geared up to deliver the rest.

Malcolm interrupted. "Frustrated? " He gave a short laugh. "It's not surprising, is it? What with the fraternization regulations and everything. You know - chain of command, rank… it would only leave… Hess!" He looked at me, appalled.

That took me down a track I didn't even want to contemplate - I tend to look off-ship, if you know what I mean, and Hess… well… and Malcolm…

I tried to banish that train of thought, but unfortunately it had left a searing afterimage in my mind. I don't know if it will ever entirely disappear.

I said quickly, "Not that! Frustrated because you are not going to be watching water polo in future." I tendered the Captain's explanation with appropriate gravitas. I gave Malcolm my most solemn gaze - which he immediately undermined.

He let out a peal of laughter and slapped his thigh. I gazed at him, astonished and somewhat disconcerted. I can vaguely remember this Malcolm, but this Malcolm was quite drunk at the time. As was I. Hence the vagueness. Normal Malcolm does not laugh like this. He does not slap his thigh.

"Malcolm…" I said tentatively. "Are you sure you're… okay?"

He considered my question with some care. I could see his eyes cast heavenwards as he settled on the correct response. Then he looked directly at me, and said seriously, "Yes. I'm okay. Are you okay, Trip?"

"Umm. Yeah, I guess," I said, doubtfully.

Malcolm laughed again, shaking his head at my reply.

I felt my hackles rise. Something was very, very wrong here. Here was a man that rarely gives an uninhibited smile, yet he was in full flow despite receiving a serious blemish on his record. Had he become… unhinged? I had never really paid much attention in the 'Psychology of Leadership' lectures - it always seemed to me you either had it or you didn't.

I wished I had paid more attention to the lectures - the psychology part, anyway.

I saw now how unnaturally bright Malcolm's eyes were. There was a pink flush to his skin and he was compulsively fidgeting with his fingers.

"Umm. Malcolm…"

"Y'know, Trip, I'm Security Chief, Head of the Armory and Chief Tactical Officer! Three people! You're only Chief Engineer! Haa." He giggled and held up a single finger. "There's only one of you!"

"And how many of me can you see? Have you been drinking, Malcolm?" I had a growing suspicion. But as I said, I don't have a clear recollection of what he is like when inebriated, because, well… because…

"Naw… Use a title Trip - go on. I've got so, so, many, many…"

Yep! I was pretty sure. And annoyed. There is a time, and there is a place, and that was not here, not from our Armory Officer.

I replied, keeping my temper in check, "I'll give you another title if you're not careful" I leaned forward to get a better look at him.

Malcolm delivered a light punch to my shoulder. "Nah, you can keep 'Chief Engineer'. I only want good titles! Warp engineerin' 's borin'." He blinked owlishly at me. "I've got so, so, so, many, many, many… Is there an echo in here?" He squinted around the room. "That's not right is it, Trip? You should look into that. It might be a problem with the ship. P'r'aps it's getting bigger?"

His mouth formed a perfect 'O' at this potential bombshell.

Dammit! He _was_ drunk. Dammit all to hell! "Okay, Mister Two Chiefs and One Head - which doesn't seem to be working properly right now - where is it?"

"Where's what?" replied Malcolm, all innocence.

"The bottle, or is it bottles? Y'know, if the Captain catches you like this, you'll be in big trouble, off duty or not."

"Mister Chief Engineer, the Security Chief has not been drinking."

"Could have fooled me!" I started poking around to find the evidence while Malcolm stood up to monitor my progress, swaying quietly as he watched me.

Nothing! Only meticulously organized kit. I bet he's never got a problem finding matching socks. Funny that, as he never seems to end up with a gorgeous female alien.

I ran my hand through my hair as I thought about the problem. Bad enough that he had been caught red-handed randomly firing off his weapon, but add drunkenness to that as well, and if he had been seen… Well… I had to try to get through to him.

"Malcolm, this is serious. Have you been drinking somewhere else? Did anyone see you?"

Malcolm frowned at me. He said very carefully - too carefully "I. Have. Not. Been. Drinking. Trip." He grinned as he reached the successful conclusion to his declaration.

I scratched my head, wondering how long it was going to take to sober him up. I debated getting Phlox over to speed things along.

Malcolm sidled up to me. "Watch out for Porthos," he confided. He tapped the side of his nose with an index finger.

Now what was he prattling on about? "And just what is that supposed to mean, huh?"

"Porthos is a…" His eyes darted around the room, then he lowered his voice to a whisper, "beagle." He looked at me with wide eyes.

"I know Porthos is a beagle!" I exclaimed, not bothering to keep my voice down. I was not going to humor a drunk Malcolm Reed. I'd had enough, truth be told.

"Ssshhh," said Malcolm, holding his index finger to his mouth and seemingly genuinely distressed. "Beagles have got very good hearing. Like Vulcans." He paused, and then said in a manner that suggested he had had a great revelation"Do you think she's in on it?"

"Who?"

"T'Pol, of course! She's got good hearing. She might be on their side, with the Captain as well!"

"Oh, for heaven's sake, Malcolm."

"They are very, very good shots, you know, beagles. And they've got phase pistols that are just the right size for their little paws." He waggled his forefinger at me - presumably to demonstrate an armed and dangerous beagle.

Now I was getting worried - really worried. Exactly how much had he managed to put away to end up in this state? What _had_ he been drinking?

Malcolm meandered on. "'Course, the Captain hasn't got good hearing, but Porthos lives with him! That's why I didn't tell him- the Captain, not Porthos. Can't give the enemy any intelligence… gotta keep it under wraps. Loose lips sink ships, Trip."

It dawned on me that there was something missing from this scenario. It should've smelled like a brewery in there, even with the air recycling, but there was nothing - no telltale aroma. And for a drunken man, Malcolm was managing to speak pretty clearly when he bothered to. Loose lips sink ships, indeed!

I sniffed at Malcolm's breath. No alcohol. Odd.

He swayed back away from me and shook his head. "No, Trip. I said good _hearing,_ not good _scenting_ ability." Then he stared at me in shock. "Oh! Beagles are good at smelling things too, aren't they? And so are Vulcans" He clutched at my arm. "I was right, Trip! T'Pol's involved as well. It's a conspiracy!"

With considerable difficulty, I levered his fingers off my arm before the interruption in the blood supply caused my hand to drop off. "No, no, calm down, Malcolm. Listen to me, okay?"

"Okay."

"Promise you'll listen carefully?"

"Okay."

"This thing you've got about beagles… it's not true- "

"Trip? "

"Yeah? "

"Have you got a dog, back home? Any breed - not just a beagle."

"Uhh, no, no I haven't." See, technically, Princess Fifi Fluffybelle belongs to the whole family, and there was no way I was going to admit to Malcolm that I might be colluding with 'the enemy'.

"Good. I was reading this book… it's a true story… and in it, there's this beagle, called Gerald, and he's really a mole! And- "

"Malcolm! "

"He's a mole, trying to find out what the secrets are, and it's connected with this secret source, that they've codenamed 'Witchcraft', and then they go to talk to someone called… uhh, I can't remember his name, but anyway- "

"Malcolm! Please, stop, would ya! "

"Yeah, but Gerald- "

"Malcolm! " I couldn't take any more! I clapped my hand over his mouth to shut him up. "Be quiet! " Then I said something I wasn't proud of. "The beagles will hear you, otherwise." I really shouldn't have played into his delusions like that, but he was beginning to drive me crazy as well!

Malcolm stopped trying to speak and made big round eyes at me. I took my hand away, and miraculously he kept silent.

For a moment.

"Trip? "

"Yeah? "

"Can I tell you something? "

"Yeah…"

"You won't tell the Captain? "

I wasn't sure about this. I don't like to make promises I might not be able to keep, even to crazy men. "Why don't you want me to tell him? "

"Loose lips sink ships - I told you that already! " he said impatiently.

I sighed. I could see I was going to have to make an exception for this particular crazy man. "I won't tell him. What do you want to tell me? "

Malcolm nodded over to the charred mess on his shelf, zapped by his energy bolt. He said"I shot it."

"Umm…"

"The beagle, Trip."

"Beagle..? _Beagle?_ Oh, so that's what it is… was."

I looked at the lump with renewed interest, but couldn't make out much. Yeah - it was an impressively dead ex-beagle-sculpture.

"It was after me. I had no choice." Malcolm gave me a somber look. "I had my weapon set on 'kill'."

What! What was going on in Malcolm's brain? Exactly how long had he been in this delusional state? How had the Captain failed to notice Malcolm wasn't behaving normally earlier?

I said carefully, teasing out the truth"So - it wasn't an accidental discharge, then? "

Malcolm looked at me seriously. He said, "No - it was self-defense. It came after me, and there's no cover here, you see. It was the beagle or me."

If I hadn't known better, I would've imagined he was recounting a mission he had been on.

Malcolm ran a hand through his hair. He said, with a touch of desperation"But I couldn't tell the Captain, what with him being so close to Porthos. He might have chucked me out of an air lock! Do you understand? Because I shot my beagle? "

Uh oh. I looked at Malcolm's earnest face. He really seemed to believe this. This was way beyond me. Certainly way beyond any 'Psychology of Leadership' course I may have slept through.

"Yes, I think I do understand. Look - Malcolm, I don't want to alarm you, but I don't think you are well." Perhaps this was a consequence of that head injury he'd got? He certainly wasn't rational. I had to get him to Phlox.

He bristled. "I feel fine, Trip."

I noticed he was starting to shiver. "You're trembling. I think we need to get you to Sick Bay."

He crossed his arms in an attempt to hide it, but it just meant that instead of only his arms shaking, his whole body was quivering. "It's nothing." He smiled at me. Then his teeth began to chatter. He added, "It's a new training technique."

"What? " Now what was he going on about?

"Yeah, you know how meditation calms you down? Well, this is a method to get your adrenaline working before combat."

Oh yeah? Like I'm gonna buy that! "Uh huh. I see. Well, we'll see what Phlox makes of it."

Malcolm shook his head. "No, no - I've scheduled Phlox for tomorrow. How about you, Commander? I'll put you down as well, should I? Start off with some easy throws and work up from there? "

He gave an evil grin that sent a chill down my spine. Unarmed combat practice with the Anti-Beagle- No chance!

"No! Absolutely not. I'm far too busy right now in Engineering, and… and you are not going to distract me that easily, Lieutenant. We go see Phlox now! " Malcolm can be a devious bastard at times, but I was not going to be sidetracked.

His grin vanished and he scowled at me. He said with a sneer, "Phlox is a quack. All his animals say that about him."

"All his…? C'mon, let's get you seen to. Don't make me have to order you, mister." I gave him a friendly grin to ease his concerns. I didn't want to drag him down to Phlox by force if I could help it. I had a feeling that would provoke actual unarmed combat - not 'merely' a practice session.

"I wouldn't make a good toast rack, you know, " remarked Malcolm, conversationally.

"Excuse me? "

"A toast rack. I'm too big, you see? Or an umbrella stand."

My mouth flapped uselessly for a couple of minutes. Eventually, I stuttered out, "Uh, no, I'm sure you wouldn't."

That seemed to satisfy him, because he gave a grin, and then said, "Fancy a lozenge? "

"What? " These lightening changes of topic and mood were throwing me. At least with the beagles, I had some idea what was going on.

"A lozenge. They're very nice." Malcolm popped one in his mouth and made appreciative noises.

I hesitated. I was feeling hungry. I hadn't eaten for a while and this conversation with Malcolm had worn me out.

"What? " said Malcolm, plaintively. "Don't you trust me? I thought you were my friend. They're lovely, you know, Trip." He ate another one, then held out the box and rattled it in front of me, temptingly.

I grinned at him. I was trying to get him to relax, wasn't I- not feed his paranoia. I gave in. "Okay, thanks."

I took one of the spherical, black lozenges. It was interesting - an odd flavor that I couldn't place and a strange texture. I rolled it around in my mouth. I became aware of Malcolm peering at me intently. He had a peculiar look on his face - almost amusement.

"What do you think? " He licked his lips as he observed my reactions to the lozenge.

"Yeah. Nice."

I bit into it and felt a thick liquid coat my tongue. I started to feel calmer, more optimistic. Phlox would be able to straighten Malcolm out, whatever had gotten into him. Hmm. Yeah, it was very appealing. I took my time with the lozenge, feeling a twinge of disappointment as I finally swallowed it and it was all gone. This didn't fit in with the Growarths' produce, which as far as I could see, was uniformly disgusting.

I was intrigued. I asked Malcolm, "Did Chef make them? "

Malcolm giggled, reminding me again how unstable he was. Malcolm is not a natural giggler.

He pulled himself together just long enough to say, "Not Chef - another member of the crew." He made some snorting noises which I chose to ignore.

"Oh. Well, good job, whoever made them."

Interesting. Not the Growarths either then? If Malcolm wanted to be mysterious about the source, I wasn't bothered. I did feel like another lozenge as it happened, but thought that perhaps later on would be better, after I'd got our crazy Armory Officer sorted out. Which reminded me"Malcolm - you haven't got a weapon in here still, have you? "

I mean, I think I'd have found any weapon when I was looking for an alcohol stash, but he can be real sneaky about armaments. The Captain had relieved him of one phase pistol, but I wouldn't put it past Malcolm to have a back-up.

Malcolm sobered up immediately. He glared daggers at me, and then jerked his head upward. "No! The Captain took it. I'm bloody annoyed about that! How am I supposed to do my job properly? "

He dropped his hands by his side, poised on the balls of his feet. I saw a muscle twitch at his cheek.

Uh oh, time to get him to Phlox quickly before we went from happy, paranoid Malcolm to angry, paranoid Malcolm.

Did I believe him about not having another weapon? I had no choice, I guess. If I couldn't find anything, and he wouldn't confess, there wasn't much else I could do.

I said soothingly, "Well - perhaps we can do something about that later. Come on, let's see if Phlox is in."

I shoved him out of the door and in the general direction of the turbolift, hoping we wouldn't meet too many people along the route.

* * *

TBC 


	4. Chapter 4

Disclaimer: see Chapter 1

A/N: Thank you for all the great reviews. I see there was even one from Sca- I mean, Lieutenant Hess! ;-)

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* * *

**

**Chapter 4 **

We'd nearly reached Sick Bay when Malcolm spotted one of his armory team up ahead of us.

"Crewman!" he called out, before I could stop him. The guy ran over and stood smartly to attention. I wonder why I can't get my people to do that?

"Yes, Sir," he said. His name is Watkins, I think.

Malcolm narrowed his eyes and lowered his voice. "Crewman. I want you to put a tail on Porthos."

Oh, no! Not beagles again. The poor Crewman looked baffled.

"Sir?"

I eased my way behind Malcolm, and tried to get Watkins' attention by jerking my head back and forth. Watkins' eyes were bouncing from his boss to me and back again, as he tried to figure out what was going on.

"You heard me!" rapped out Malcolm, in his best command voice. "Put a tail on that beagle. I want a full report on his every movement."

Watkins jaw dropped open as he goggled at Malcolm.

I tried to intervene. "Uhh, Malcolm, don't you think that's a little…uhh… extreme." I was shaking my head at Watkins now.

Watkins shook his head in time with mine.

Malcolm spun about to look at me and I tried to project innocence. Then he started laughing. I breathed a sigh of relief. It was all a joke. He was just putting one over on me. I grinned at him.

My grin froze as Malcolm spoke once more. "Haa. Put a tail on Porthos! He's already got one hasn't he? They come with their own built-in tails because they are so damned suspicious. Haa. Well, put another one on him then!"

Watkins was staring at him, not able to make any sense of this at all, not surprisingly.

I said, "You heard the Lieutenant, Crewman. We're just off to - _Sick Bay_ - now, so we'll leave you to it." I gave him a knowing nod.

Watkins face showed a glimmer of understanding. "Uhh, yes… Yes, Sir. I'll get right on it."

"Yes, jump to it," called Malcolm after Watkins as he made his escape. "And watch out for any Andorians!"

"Andorians?" I couldn't help myself. Malcolm may have been deluded, but he sure was inventively deluded!

"Yes, Commander. They're working with the beagles. Don't worry. I've got it all in hand."

"Good. I'm pleased to hear it." I gave Malcolm a little push in the direction of Sick Bay. "Come on, the sooner we get this over with, the better."

"I still don't see why this is necessary, Trip," he grumbled, but he didn't offer any resistance, to my relief.

"Trust me. It is. Ahh, here we are." I've never been so glad to see those doors. We entered the haven of Sick Bay.

I left Malcolm standing just inside the doors while I went to have a discreet word with Phlox, who was off in an alcove.

"Doc. There's something wrong with Malcolm."

"Ahh, Commander. And what seems to be the matter with the Lieutenant?"

"Well, he seems kinda disturbed." I grimaced as I remembered my laughing at those very words earlier on with the Captain. They didn't seem quite as amusing now. "To begin with, I thought he was drunk, but I don't think he is. He's-"

My observations were interrupted by a gale of laughter from Malcolm, who was now poking around Phlox's animal collection. "Trip! You've got to listen to this. What this lizard says is so funny, don't you think?"

"Oh?" I said weakly. "I can't hear it, to tell the truth."

"What is it saying?" asked Phlox, in a tone designed to coax out confidences. He sounded intrigued. I wasn't sure that encouraging Malcolm like this was a smart move. But then, of course, I'd already been exposed to his surreal world. Phlox was still an innocent.

Malcolm giggled. "He says, what do you call a Denobulan doctor?"

No, Malcolm, don't go there…

Phlox clasped his fingers over his stomach. He smiled benevolently. "I don't know, Lieutenant."

Malcolm carried on obliviously, "Doctor Quackers, because they're all quacks!"

Uh oh. I stole a glance at Phlox. His normal jolly demeanor had vanished. "Lieutenant…"

"He doesn't know what he's saying, Doc," I said quickly.

Malcolm said, "Another one! What do you call a Denobulan with eight legs?" He giggled uncontrollably. "A tarantula!"

"I don't understand human humor at times," said Phlox, seeming a little disconcerted.

"Yeah, well, that doesn't exactly count as humor," I assured him.

Malcolm was on a roll. "An Englishman, a Scotsman and a Denobulan go into a bar…"

"Please, Malcolm, please. Be quiet for a moment and come and sit down, huh?" I patted the biobed.

"But I thought you wanted to know what they're all saying?"

"Later. Sit down. That's an order, Lieutenant."

Malcolm sighed, but did as he was told. It was good to discover his respect for my authority - such as it is - was still intact, even if he did believe the Captain to be in league with evil beagles. The various instruments hooked up to the biobed sprung into life. Phlox waved a small hand scanner over Malcolm, who was already starting to fidget.

Phlox studied the results and peered at Malcolm who peered back.

"Doc," I said, pulling Phlox away a little so Malcolm wouldn't hear. "He was shivering a short while ago, but that's stopped now. Like I said, I don't think he's drunk. I wondered if it might be his head injury that's causing this?"

Phlox stared at me and pushed my hand away. "Leave the diagnosis to me, Commander, if you don't mind."

"Yeah, of course. It's just that I've never seen him like this, and I'm worried."

Phlox gave a small smile. "I understand. Well, you are correct - there is no trace of alcohol in his system. His behavior, however, is not consistent with what I would expect from a head injury of this nature. Could he have taken some other stimulant, perhaps?"

What! I scrambled to put the Doc straight on that.

"Uh, no way, Doctor. After all the things they get us acquainted with during training, there's no way any of us would want to mess with that sorta stuff."

"But alcohol is acceptable, hmm?"

I squirmed a bit at that. "Yeah, well, I guess it's more of a known quantity, isn't it? All I'm saying is that Malcolm would not take any type of-"

I didn't get a chance to finish what I was saying, as at that moment, Malcolm decided he'd had enough.

"Right-oh! Is that it then? I'm off!" he announced, and made a determined advance on the doors.

"Lieutenant! We haven't finished!" exclaimed Phlox. "Sit down!"

Malcolm ignored him and got as far as pressing the door button.

I leaped across and blocked the way, quite heroically in my opinion. I could see his cheery mood was dissipating fast. I tried to forget about the time he decked me.

"Commander-" Malcolm frowned at me – possibly figuring me for a beagle sympathizer perhaps?

I swallowed my apprehension. "Lieutenant, sit back down again. That's an order."

I crossed my fingers.

It didn't work.

"You have to let me go! The ship is in danger." Malcolm's voice was cold, implacable – kinda scary.

He tried to stare me down. He flexed his legs. I saw his fingers twitch.

Uh oh! This might mean unarmed combat after all. I tried to remember the 'essential tips' from my last session several months previously. It was all kinda hazy, to be truthful. Something about watching the eyes, or was it the feet… or the hands? If I had been near a plasma relay, I coulda just zapped him with it - the resuscitation equipment was only over the way there, after all - but no such luck. I was on my own.

But then Phlox bustled over. "The ship is in danger?" he echoed, as I frantically shook my head at him. I was grateful for the diversion but a less... threatening... topic might've been better. I dunno, something about the lizard again? It seemed to be an undiscovered comic talent according to our armory officer.

But it was too late. Malcolm went off on another beagle rant, eyes narrowed and spitting out the words. "Yes. Porthos is now under surveillance, but that doesn't mean we can relax. There might well have been others transported aboard whilst I have been wasting my time here."

"Others?" said Phlox, frowning. "Transported aboard?" I don't think he is ever going to understand humans at this rate.

"He means other beagles," I told him helpfully.

"That's right," said Malcolm, crossing his arms. "And the Captain and T'Pol could be involved as well. You see how important it is I return to duty, Doctor?"

Phlox is quick on the uptake, I'll give him that. "Yes. I do indeed. Come, Lieutenant. Let me finish my scans. You need to be in top form to deal with the… umm… beagle menace."

I held my breath. I really did not want to use force with Malcolm in his current state.

Malcolm gravely considered Phlox's words and then gave a curt nod. "You're right, Doctor. They can be cunning little devils." He strode back to the biobed and sat down again.

Phlox and I heaved joint sighs of relief and exchanged pensive looks. How best to deal with the beagle avenger?

Phlox had the answer. "Right, Mister Reed. I believe you were going to tell me what my animals were saying. Why don't you bring me up to date while I finish my scans? It won't take a moment."

Malcolm blinked. "Oh. Okay then, if you want me to do that." He sounded surprised.

"Yes, please. I am sure it will be most fascinating."

I could see Phlox gritting his teeth. Malcolm started in on his commentary.

Phlox muttered to me out the corner of his mouth, "I believe I will be able to handle this. You may go, Commander."

I felt a massive gush of relief, but then equally massive guilt at leaving the Doctor to cope alone. "Are you sure, Phlox?"

"Yes. I hope that with you out of the picture, he will forget about the… uhh... D. O. G. S. and settle down."

Malcolm gave an uncontrolled gust of laughter as he finished his latest 'joke'.

Phlox winced, and added, " 'Settle down' being a relative term, obviously."

"Obviously," I agreed. What Phlox said did make a kind of sense. "I'll be in Engineering. Give me a call if you have a problem. Give me a call when you've finished in any case, will ya, Doc? I'll come collect him."

"Yes, Commander. I will certainly do that."

I left Sick Bay at last, hearing Malcolm's raucous laughter as I made my escape.

Poor, poor Phlox.

x - x - x

Engineering was its usual self. After spending time in the strange world of Malcolm Reed, I had half-expected to find it overrun by beagles.

I stood near the warp core - reassuringly normal - and sighed.

"Commander?"

It was Rostov. He held a set of PADDs, one of which he offered to me. I noticed he was not standing at alert attention and sighed again. How _did_ Malcolm manage to get his people to do that?

"Thanks." I took the PADD and ran my eyes over its contents. The test readings and new settings for the first injector assembly. All hunky dory now. "Yeah, good. Okay - we better get the adjustments done on the other injectors as well."

"Yes, Sir. Here's a program I put together." Rostov handed me another PADD.

I was impressed. This had been done on his own initiative, extrapolating from what we'd done on the first injector assembly. He'd even remembered to include corrections for the positional displacements. "Very good, Crewman, very good. This should do fine. We'll implement it on number two first. I'll be along in a moment. Good work!"

Rostov beamed and set off with purpose. I made a mental note to log his initiative and started going through the engine readouts. I didn't expect there to be a problem my people hadn't already found, but I like to keep a close eye on things. You can often anticipate problems before they get out of hand if you've got a feel for the system.

I hoped Phlox was okay. Perhaps I should have got someone to assist him, or stand guard outside? I bit my lip. Should I tell the Captain? Malcolm was off-duty - sick leave, actually - but if we needed his services, the Captain might call him back on. But then, I didn't know what was the matter with him, and I didn't like to bring it to the Captain's attention until I had a better idea of what was going on. I didn't want to get Malcolm into trouble if I could help it. But the Captain did want to know how I had got on with him…

I realized I had just stepped through all the main engine top-level functions - and had no idea what their status was. Damn! I went back to the beginning and started again, this time forcing myself to pay attention.

I had a horrible vision of Phlox tied to one of his own beds while a deranged Malcolm roamed the corridors in search of Porthos. It was no good - I looked at the chronometer. Surely Phlox should've finished off by now? I decided to call him.

"Sir." It was Rostov again.

"Crewman?"

"Could you sign off these, Sir?"

It was the routine 'paperwork'. "All right. Pass 'em over."

He gave me a PADD at a time. I glanced at each one, authorized it and handed it back, still worrying about what to do with Malcolm. There were so many PADDS! Eventually, we had got through them all. At least that chore was over for a while.

Rostov looked like he was going to bust, he was grinning so broadly. That set my alarm bells ringing. "Wait a minute," I said, stopping him in his tracks. "Let me see those again." I waved him back over.

Reluctantly - which amplified my suspicions - Rostov passed the PADDs back to me, one at a time. The last one was the one. I had apparently authorized immediate shore leave for the entire Engineering Department.

I waved the offending PADD around, to general laughter. "Uh oh. Lucky I found this, otherwise you might find I _insist_ you all take shore leave. I believe we are passing a suitable asteroid field. Enterprise could come back in a couple of weeks and pick you up. Yeah - two weeks in EV suits - nice!"

I couldn't help but join in with the amusement. They're good people.

It raised my spirits anyhow.

_"Phlox to Commander Tucker."_ The nearest comm panel activated. I turned away to answer the hail, still grinning.

"Tucker, here. How is he?"

_"Lieutenant Reed is free to return to his quarters." _

"I'll be right there."

If Phlox said Malcolm could go back to his quarters, he had to be okay, didn't he? I set off with a spring in my step.

x - x - x

Malcolm was seated on the same biobed when I returned to Sick Bay. He had his arms crossed and a rather grim expression, but was silent. I was thankful I had not got to listen to any more 'jokes'.

"Hi, Malcolm!" I said, still in good humor.

"I want to leave," he said, truculently. "Now."

Uh oh. That put a damper on things. I smiled placatingly at him. "Let me go have a word with Phlox, would ya?"

Malcolm sneered. "Phlox? What does he know?"

"He knows if you're fit to be let loose," I said, spotting Phlox off to one side.

"He said I am, but that I had to wait for you. I don't see why." Malcolm got off the bed and scowled at me. I was beginning to wish we had 'manically cheerful Malcolm' back again. This belligerent version was kinda unnerving.

"Commander!" Phlox said. "Thank you for coming. I think it would be prudent to have someone escort Lieutenant Reed back to his quarters."

"Is he cured, Doc?"

"Cured? I suppose so, but it is a matter of degree. I have administered an antidote and it has already had some effect. I estimate he will be back to normal in a couple of hours."

"Don't you want to keep him here until he's better, for observation?"

"No." Phlox smoothed his hair down with a shaky hand. I noticed the top buttons of his tunic were undone.

"Doc?"

"It has been somewhat… wearing." He gave a small smile. "I would never have guessed my creatures had so much to say, but the Lieutenant has kindly enlightened me… at length."

Ouch. I could only offer a sympathetic grimace. "What was the matter with him? Was it an allergic reaction?"

"I'm afraid I cannot discuss the particulars with you, Commander. You were correct, however. There was no deliberate intent on Mister Reed's part to get into that state."

That was reassuring. I was pretty certain I had been right about that, but it was good to have it confirmed.

I said, "Is he… uhh… 'safe'?"

"'Safe'?"

I looked at Phlox's black eye, now purpling quite magnificently. "What I mean is, is he likely to want to 'save the ship'?"

"Ahh. You mean, is he still delusional? No… well, only to a very small degree. Insufficient to keep him in Sick Bay."

"Good."

Malcolm was watching us and tapping an impatient foot. "Well? Finished talking about me then, huh?"

I turned to Phlox again. "Are you sure he's okay to leave? He still seems kinda… off."

"Yes. Quite sure." Phlox was adamant. "Please take him."

I shrugged. "You're the expert, Doc. Okay. Lieutenant - let's go."

Malcolm growled, "At last. I don't know why we have this quack, Commander. He's got all the medical brains of an amoeba. No - less than that."

"Malcolm!" I was appalled. "Doc…"

Phlox gave a thin-lipped smile. "It is quite all right, Commander. The Lieutenant has already been most forthcoming about my perceived shortcomings."

"What? Look, Phlox, he doesn't mean it. I'm sure he doesn't."

"Yes, I do," supplied Malcolm. "Otherwise I wouldn't say so, would I, Commander?"

I shook my head. I had to get him out of there, although it seemed the damage was already done.

"Do you want to see him again, Doc?"

"No, no. There's no need for that," said Phlox, with evident relief.

"I'll be seeing you tomorrow, _Doctor_, won't I?" said Malcolm, a slight curl to his lip. "Nine hundred hours, sharp. In the Armory." He closed his hands into tight fists.

I saw Phlox swallow. The poor man. I felt for him, but now was not the time to get into that. Especially if it reminded Malcolm of his suggestion that I needed a workout too.

"Come on, Lieutenant," I said, deciding to keep Malcolm in check with formality. "Time to go home."

Malcolm gave Phlox a final scowl and stalked out of Sick Bay.

Phlox called after me, "Commander! I almost forgot. Could you bring me the lozenges Mister Reed has promised me?"

"Yeah, sure," I said, scooting off to catch up with Malcolm.

As I drew level with him, he said, "I did mean what I said about Phlox, Commander. He just wants to experiment on us, not cure us."

"No, I'm sure that isn't true," I said, soothingly.

"It is," he insisted. "He likes inflicting pain on me."

Hmm, I wonder why?

We walked on in silence. That was quite a relief after his rambling chatter previously.

x - x - x

We hadn't got far to go to reach Malcolm's quarters, when I saw an unwelcome sight coming toward us - the Captain and - horrifyingly - Porthos. Malcolm hadn't mentioned beagles since I collected him from Sick Bay. I wasn't sure how he would react with a tangible example of the menace in front of him. Had he recovered from his delusion?

"Gentlemen," said the Captain with an easy smile.

"Captain," I said, crossing my fingers.

Malcolm gulped and managed a "Sir." His eyes were fixed on Porthos, who was gazing back at him adoringly and wagging his tail.

The Captain noticed Malcolm's stare and laughed. "I took a quick lunch so I could fit in an extra walk with Porthos. He likes to get about the ship."

Uh oh. I looked at Malcolm. His face had turned to granite. "That's nice, Sir," he said, in a tone which meant anything but. The fingers of his right hand twitched near where the butt of his phase pistol would normally be.

The Captain apparently didn't notice Malcolm's uneasiness. He gave us a genial nod and carried on his way, calling Porthos to follow him.

Porthos took a step toward Malcolm, who shrunk back, and then happily bounded after his master.

"Okay, Malcolm?" I asked, in what I hoped was a steadying voice.

He stared after Porthos. "Thank God he wasn't armed," he breathed.

Malcolm was slightly flushed and I was having real doubts about him returning to his quarters. He certainly wasn't behaving normally. On the other hand, Sick Bay didn't seem an appropriate option either. Phlox didn't deserve it.

"Well, he's out of the way now." I tried to ease Malcolm's anxieties.

"Wait a minute! Where's Watkins?"

"Watkins?"

"He's supposed to be tailing Porthos. Where the hell is he?"

Uhh. If he'd got any sense he'd be lying low and hoping he had dreamed it all. I said, "Perhaps he's using the cameras - less likely to be spotted like that." I was pleased with my quick thinking.

It didn't work.

"He better not be! He should know the difference between tailing a suspect and remote surveillance. He's just bloody lazy!"

I didn't know what to say. As it happened, I didn't have to find another excuse for the luckless Watkins, because just then he rounded the corner ahead of us.

"Sirs," he said, as he reached us.

"You let him get too far ahead, Crewman," snapped Malcolm.

"Sorry, Sir. I've got all his movements and contacts listed, though." Watkins waved a PADD in the air.

"Very good. Add myself and Commander Tucker, will you, and hurry up. There's no saying who he might be with now!"

"Yes, Sir!" said Watkins, and sped off.

I looked after him open-mouthed. "I don't believe it," I said feebly.

"Neither do I! That's bordering on incompetence."

I shook my head and began to wonder if perhaps I was the one suffering from delusions.

* * *

TBC 


	5. Chapter 5

Disclaimer: see Chapter 1

* * *

**Chapter 5**

We reached Malcolm's quarters without further incident. I was still uneasy at leaving him to his own devices in there, but Phlox had assured me it was okay - soon Malcolm would be back to normal.

Right. I could believe that - couldn't I?

I studied Malcolm. He was standing in the middle of the room in a state of poised readiness. He narrowed his eyes. "Is that all, Commander?"

Why did I feel like _he_ was dismissing _me_?

"Yeah. Uhh, Malcolm, I really think it's best if you stay in here for the next couple of hours."

He sneered at me. "Really? Do you indeed?"

He crossed his arms - almost a challenge. I got the distinct feeling that he wanted me to make 'one false move'.

Now, I know Malcolm has his moments, but this was definitely not normal behavior for him. I began to doubt Phlox's judgment. After all, he is an alien, isn't he? I'm not sure he's got a grip on all the finer nuances of human behavior.

"Are you sure you're feeling okay, Malcolm?"

He rolled his eyes and said sarcastically, "Am I _okay_? Of course I am _okay_."

"Good-"

"Why wouldn't I be okay, with Porthos having the run of the ship, while I am confined to quarters?" He jerked his head to indicate his door.

"No - I'm not confining you to quarters" - although maybe that was not a bad idea - "It was a suggestion you stay here, that's all."

"A suggestion?" That seemed to mollify him some.

"Yes, Lieutenant. A suggestion from a friend. Someone on your side. Try to get some rest - it'll help, I promise."

He bit his lip and gave me a calculating look.

I piled in with additional ammunition. "After all, Watkins will get straight back to you if there's a problem, won't he?"

"Watkins? Yes… yes, he will. Very well, Commander, I will follow your suggestion."

Malcolm stood down from his 'immediate readiness' state and relaxed a touch. I felt a weight lift from me. Now I was much happier about leaving him on his own.

"Good. I'll leave you in peace, then." As I turned to go, I remembered Phlox's request. "Phlox said you were going to let him have those lozenges. I said I'd take them to him."

"Yes, I did promise to give them to him. Hold on." Malcolm rummaged around and pulled out the box. "Here you are." He held it out to me.

As I stretched out my hand to take it, he snatched it back.

"Lieutenant?"

"Sorry…" He offered it again, and this time I managed to grab hold of the box before he could pull it away. He turned his back on me with a wave, "Take them, go on… All of them…"

"Okay. Comm me if you've got a problem, Lieutenant."

"Yes, Sir."

I beat a retreat. I got to confess, I did consider locking him in, but decided it wasn't worth the risk. He'd only find out, and I couldn't imagine facing the fury that would be sure to follow. Or the combat training.

x - x - x

I wondered about these lozenges I was couriering to Phlox. Why had Malcolm promised them to him? Given the way Malcolm had recently described the Doctor, giving him a gift was most out of character. Of course, I only met 'maniacal Malcolm', 'paranoid anti-beagle Malcolm' and 'stupidly happy Malcolm'. Perhaps there had also been a 'generosity-itself Malcolm' at one stage?

Oh well, I decided it wasn't worth spending any more effort on trying to figure it all out. With any luck, everything would be back to normal soon. But what if Phlox had misjudged it all, and he thought Malcolm was already 'back to normal'? Was this as good as it got?

I tried to distract myself from those kinda gloomy thoughts. I rattled the box. Sounded like there were still a lot left.

My stomach rumbled. I had skipped lunch - there had been so much going on I hadn't given it a thought. There might be some leftovers - like Travis' moldy stomach lining - ugh - but nothing likely to tempt me unless I was real desperate.

The turbolift was empty - no witnesses.

I peeked in the box, only out of interest, you understand. I had been right. There were plenty of the black, luscious lozenges rolling around. They were almost screaming at me, 'eat me, choose me, go on'.

"If you insist," I said, to no one in particular. After all, I was sure Phlox would not begrudge one when he would have so many left.

I selected a victim and popped it in my mouth. I had forgotten how delicious they were. I began to feel more optimistic and a lot calmer. It was such a pleasant, warm feeling.

The turbolift reached the correct deck. I strolled along to Sick Bay, fighting the urge to eat another lozenge before they left my custody forever. No - I'd got to be firm. No more. But I had a plan. I could find out who had made them, and get some of my own. If it wasn't Chef, could it be someone else in his team? Or Hoshi, perhaps? She takes an interest in cooking.

I wobbled again, and nearly gave in to temptation, but then I was outside Sick Bay's doors, they opened and it was too late.

Phlox was working at a terminal. "Commander, did you get Lieutenant Reed to his quarters without any problems?"

I smiled. "Yes. We met Porthos but Malcolm didn't actually _do_ anything, so I guess that is an improvement, huh?"

"Yes, indeed it is. I am waiting for the final test results to be computed, but I am confident my earlier analysis will hold. We can expect him to be fully recovered shortly." Phlox tapped away at his keyboard. "One moment. I have to send this message, then I will be with you… bat brains."

I blinked. No - I must've misheard that, unless it was a Denobulan curse, but then, wouldn't a Denobulan curse be in Denobulan? I shook my head. It really didn't matter. Phlox wasn't unduly perturbed, so whatever it was, it didn't reflect on Malcolm's condition. At least, I sure hoped it didn't.

Bat brains- I had an image of Malcolm hanging upside down in his closet.

Phlox gave a satisfied grunt and dispatched his message with a flourish. He turned to face me. "Now - do you have my lozenges?"

"Yeah." I offered him the box. It was strangely difficult to do that. I wanted to keep them all for myself, not let someone else enjoy them.

Phlox wrestled the box from me, and gave me an odd look. "Are you feeling all right, Commander?"

"Very well, Doc. I feel great!" A huge wave of well-being embraced me.

Phlox gazed at me a moment, and then went over to the disposal unit. Before I could stop him, he'd put the box in and activated the unit! All gone - the lozenges were all gone!

I was horror-struck! That was wanton vandalism! What was he thinking of? "Doc," I spluttered. "Why did you do that!

"Commander?"

"I would've had them if you didn't want them. They were delicious."

His mouth dropped open, and then his face darkened. "Oh, really, Commander! Am I to understand you have been taking Lieutenant Reed's medication? I had thought you would be more sensible than that! What were you telling me earlier about not taking in strange substances - various types of alcoholic beverages excepted of course, as alcohol doesn't figure apparently in your definitions of 'mind altering'…"

He was really angry. I'd never seen him like that before.

Wait a minute. My mind rapidly processed what he had said. Uhh…

"Doc, Doctor…" I tried to interrupt his tirade.

"…Starfleet officer, that is most irresponsible, no wonder…"

"Doc. Phlox! Stop, please. I didn't know, believe me - I didn't know it was his medication! Malcolm didn't tell me! You gotta believe me!"

He came to an abrupt halt and glowered at me. I wouldn't have been surprised to see steam coming out of his ears, he was that incensed.

"You didn't know?"

"No. Honestly."

Phlox calmed down a bit. "Hhmm. How many lozenges have you ingested?"

"Uhh. Two."

"Are you certain about that?"

"Yeah. Only two."

"And what was the time interval between them?"

I had no idea! Was that important…?

Phlox helped me out. "Did you take them less than one hour apart?"

Let's see, the first was before I delivered Malcolm to Sick Bay and the second one…"Yes. More than one hour between them."

Phlox gave a relieved sigh. "That is encouraging. However, I will have to give you the antidote, to be on the safe side."

"Antidote, Doc? Why? What does it do? If it's medication, it can't be that bad, can it?"

"Put it this way, Commander - are you having any beagle hallucinations?"

"What? You mean… you mean those lozenges are what caused Malcolm to go loopy?"

"Precisely, Commander."

I felt the blood rush from my face. I remembered Malcolm's paranoia. Was I suffering from it too? How would I be able to tell? I squinted into the shadows of Sick Bay, seeking ghostly beagles. Nothing - did that mean I was okay?

Phlox said, "I am sure that with such a small dosage and at that interval you will not have suffered any side-effects. No tripping for you, Commander!" His grin spread over his face.

Dammit! First the Captain and now Phlox. Why did I have to be the third in my family line? I know, I know - as Dad always says, think of it as 'character building'.

I ignored Phlox's amusement, treating the attempt at humor with the contempt it deserved. I needed to get this information straight. "So, these lozenges affected Malcolm?"

Phlox grew serious once more. "Yes. They did. I am afraid Lieutenant Reed did not have the same amount of willpower as you - he was unable to follow my instructions. It is regrettable, because this treatment is normally very successful. Unfortunately, it appears human physiology cannot deal with it."

I couldn't let Malcolm be targeted as the only human lacking in willpower. I hung my head and admitted, "The lozenges got to me as well, Phlox. I found them difficult to resist."

"Well, never mind. At least I will be able to treat you before any symptoms appear, although you may find the next day or so somewhat uncomfortable - withdrawal effects, you see. Actually… would you mind letting me monitor that? It would make a fascinating topic for a comparative paper: human and Denobulan responses to the Askaran Oculars…"

"I'm sorry, Phlox. I'm very busy in Engineering at the moment and…" I thought frantically. I didn't want to have to report to Phlox every hour. "... and I'm sure you got lots of data from Malcolm, don't you?"

"Yes, I do. Very well. It would have been a useful addition, but is not essential. Be assured, I will be recommending this substance is not used for humans in future."

I sat on a biobed while Phlox got the antidote ready and gave me a shot.

I gave him a rueful grin. "I should've listened to my Mom. Don't take candy from strange men!"

Phlox stared at me wide-eyed, then burst out laughing. "Quite, Commander," he said.

x - x - x

After my shot from Phlox, I got back to Engineering and normality. I was eager to get dug in to the injector assembly work.

"Everything okay?" I asked, checking the system readouts as a string of affirmatives came back in reply.

They were making good progress with the injectors. At this rate, we would be finished tomorrow. I'd only need a few more adjustments and test sets, and then a high warp session to give them the final trial. Numbers one and two injector assemblies were floating and the power system was balanced. Yeah, the power drain buffers were doing their jobs. I began with the adjustments for number three.

A tuneless whistle filtered through my teeth. I didn't know if the last lozenge was still working its magic, but I was feeling good. Everything was getting back on track. Well - except for Travis' betting pool. But even there… I wondered if the 'how Malcolm cracks' was still viable. I was sure shooting at his beagle sculpture counted as a 'rampage with a phase pistol'.

I had made a fair amount of progress when the nearest comm panel activated. _"Archer to Commander Tucker."_

"Tucker here, Sir."

"_Could you come to my Ready Room, please?"_

"On my way."

Seemed like I was fated to stay out of Engineering today. I made sure everyone was okay with what they had to do. Fortunately, I had managed to complete the number three assembly calculations, so there would be no hold-up on that account.

I made my way to the bridge, my mind still happily drifting between injector schematics and being on the winning side of a bet for a change.

The door to the turbolift opened to reveal Malcolm, waiting to leave the bridge. One look at him shook me out of my contented mood. He was ashen and tight-lipped. I caught a glimpse of a sour expression on his face before he drove it away.

"Malcolm - Are you okay?" I wasn't sure if he was fully recovered yet. Almost, I would guess, according to Phlox's reckoning.

"Yes, Commander," he said, carefully avoiding my eyes. He stepped into the turbolift, practically pushing past me.

I stared after him, wondering about the underlying harshness in his tone. Then the door shut.

What had he been doing on the bridge, after he had said he would remain in his quarters? I felt a flash of alarm. Had he been armed? I didn't think so… but…

"Trip!" It was the Captain, on the other side of the bridge. Oh well, at least he was still in one piece. I surveyed the bridge as I walked over to the Ready Room. No evidence of any weapons' fire, no one looking out of sorts - or stunned. I sighed. This was ridiculous. I was getting jumpy for no good reason.

I made my way to the Ready Room and the door shut behind us. The Captain sat down and gestured to me to sit as well.

"How are the injector tests going?"

"Good. People have been pulling longer shifts and we're ahead of target. Everything should be finished off tomorrow." It was going to be so good to get the problem licked once and for all.

"Excellent," said the Captain, although he seemed preoccupied.

I waited. He could have asked me this over the comm. There was more to come, I was sure.

He chewed at his lips, and then waved a finger at his monitor. "I've gotten another complaint from Phlox. Well, I guess you've seen it. It was copied to you as well."

I felt myself color. Damnation! I didn't think Phlox would complain to the Captain about a genuine error on my part. "Uhh, no. I've not seen anything. I haven't had a chance to check all my messages, though. Uhh, Captain - I didn't know about the lozenges. It was a pure mistake. I'm sorry."

"Lozenges, Trip? Let me stop you there. You are welcome to confess to your crime later, if you want - whatever it is - but this doesn't concern any 'lozenges', or you directly."

I blew out in relief. "Then…?"

"It's about Lieutenant Reed."

Oh, not Malcolm again! Was I ever going to have some time of my own again when I didn't have to worry about him too?

The Captain's expression was grave. "The message was sent to Lieutenant Reed, and copied to me and you, so it's not official - yet. Phlox is complaining about Malcolm's conduct. Apparently Malcolm insulted him repeatedly, and in quite… colorful language. Phlox lists you as a witness to one of these outbursts… uhh… not the bat brains one... or cuttlefish turds… Ahh yes, here we are - the one to do with amoeba."

Hellfire. I was struck dumb.

"Commander? Can you confirm this?"

"Uhh…" Yeah - still struck dumb.

"Let's make it easy for you. Did Lieutenant Reed say, 'Phlox has got less than the medical brains of an amoeba?'"

"Umm. I can't rightly remember _exactly_ what he said." Which was true. I had been too horrified to take it in properly at the time.

"Did he say 'amoeba'?"

"Yes."

"Did he compare Phlox's medical skills unfavorably to said amoeba's? Commander?"

There was no way around it. The Captain had me pinned. "Yes. He did."

The Captain glowered at me.

I tried to defend Malcolm. "Captain. It's not Malcolm's fault." And Phlox knew that. What was his game?

"I wish I could believe that, Trip. However, I have just given Lieutenant Reed ample opportunity to explain himself, and he did not avail himself of that opportunity."

"What did he say?"

"That's just it. He said nothing. No - that's not entirely true. I think I got several 'Sirs', three 'Yes, Sirs' and one 'No, Sir'. Quite frankly, if Phlox does make this an official complaint, Malcolm is going to be in trouble. I had to read him the riot act about conduct unbecoming an officer - Malcolm, of all people!"

The Captain sighed heavily and ran a hand over his eyes. "I wanted to talk to you, Trip, seeing as you're his friend. I don't know. I thought I was making progress in getting to know Malcolm, what with our plans to watch water polo and everything. Somehow - by dangling the prospect of water polo in front of Malcolm, only to have it whisked away - I have managed to turn the model officer into a loudmouthed, trigger-happy lout! I wonder… I wonder if I've failed, Trip?"

He gazed at me, his distress almost palpable.

I gaped at him. He really thought that Malcolm was as besotted with water polo as he was.

"Captain, don't take this the wrong way, but have you eaten any of Malcolm's lozenges?" I would not have been at all surprised if the Captain had been indulging. He seemed as deluded as Malcolm!

"No. Why? That's the second time you've mentioned lozenges."

"Yeah, well. It's some medication that Phlox gave Malcolm, but instead of helping him, it made him a little crazy. He's been suffering from delusions. I'm pretty sure that would account for his uncharacteristic behavior. I'm surprised Phlox hasn't reported this yet. He had almost finished up his tests."

"So, you're saying Malcolm is not in his right mind?"

"Yeah. That's the size of it."

"Don't you think you should have - I don't know - _told_ me, or something, seeing as how I am your Captain?" He was most annoyed. I didn't need to pay excessive attention to his body language to determine that! "Well…? Trip…? Commander…?" Each word was more forceful than the preceding one.

"Yes, Captain. But I only just found out what was the matter, and he was off duty…"

"And dangerous! I take it that the 'accidental discharge' was nothing of the kind?"

"No. But he wouldn't have hurt any personnel." I don't think Porthos counts as personnel - strictly speaking. I mean, he's on the manifest, but he's not got an actual rating. Looking at the Captain's stony face, I didn't want to make things worse for Malcolm by mentioning the beagle connection - particularly as he was almost recovered. "Malcolm's nearly better now. Phlox gave him an antidote."

"I see. I am not at all happy about this, Commander. Or with Phlox withholding important information from me."

Oh, he was real mad. I guess that having confessed to me he thought he was failure, he was entitled to be angry.

I gave him a weak smile. What could I say?

He glared some more then swore under his breath. Yeah. Real mad.

I sat in uncomfortable silence, treacherously wishing for a lozenge to devour. Just when I though I couldn't stand it any longer, a soft tone from the terminal indicated the arrival of a new message. The Captain automatically glanced at it, and then sat up.

He eyed me over the top of his monitor. "It's a message from Malcolm to Phlox, copied to us."

I waited as he read it through, a grin spreading over his face. "Captain?"

"Malcolm has apologized to Phlox. He has also offered to cancel the training sessions with him if Phlox feels he would be too busy to attend."

"The cunning… I didn't know Phlox had it in him!" Well, well, it seemed that Phlox had found a way to outwit Malcolm. My respect for him edged up a couple of notches.

"Me neither!"

Another message tone sounded. The Captain smiled. "Ahh - what a surprise," he said, sounding like it was anything but a surprise. "I have a reply from Phlox. He accepts the Lieutenant's apologies and will not pursue his complaint. He also tenders his regrets, and would like to inform Lieutenant Reed that he will be unable to attend the specified training sessions."

Another beep sounded.

The Captain said, "My, Phlox has been busy. A message to me now, marked 'Confidential'. Of course, I can't reveal the contents except to let you know it relates to the mental well-being of a certain crewmember, and a request I take it into account when evaluating his behavior."

The Captain sat back and grinned, the lines of worry falling away from his face. "Despite keeping me in the dark, it appears the situation is resolving itself."

"Yes, Captain," I said. "I've got the message, though. I'll tell you if anything like this happens again… unless I'm the delusional one, that is!"

"Ha! Let's hope we don't have to face that again! I'd hate to have to cope with a delusional Chief Engineer!"

"Or Captain," I retorted.

We laughed a little at that unlikely idea.

The Captain said, "Well, that's that - almost. Are you interested in watching some water polo tonight, Trip?"

"No, sorry, Captain. Not tonight. I have another commitment." I didn't mind the occasional match, but didn't want it to get into a habit.

"No problem," he replied easily.

I marveled again at Malcolm's inability to tell the Captain he didn't want to sit through water polo. It wasn't as if the Captain made a big deal of it. Never mind. Malcolm had eventually managed to get the message across somehow.

The Captain said, "Oh, before you go. I've got a list here."

He pulled a PADD from the shelf behind him and slid it over the desk towards me. I picked it up and switched it on. My heart sunk.

'Seven Brides for Seven Brothers'; 'Man of La Mancha'; 'The King and I'; 'Singing' in the Rain'… Oh, this was bad… very bad. Oh no. The list didn't end there. I scrolled down. 'Oklahoma'; 'Guys and Dolls'; 'The Sound of Music'. So many… or, to quote Malcolm, so, so, so, many, many, many. This was worse than dealing with Malcolm's 'funny turn'. I looked at the Captain. He had a soppy smile plastered on his face.

"A few suggestions, Trip. For Movie Night."

"Yes, so I see."

"All twentieth century classics. Could you make sure I know about them when you show them? I wouldn't want to miss any."

I scrolled down a bit further. "Yes, Captain. Uhh - 'Walt Disney's Snow White and the Seven Dwarves'?"

"I realize it's a little scary, what with the evil Queen and everything, but it's got some great songs!"

He took a deep breath. Oh no! He was going to break into song, I knew he was. I half-expected to hear an orchestra swelling up beneath us!

Quickly, I said, "Captain, I need to be able to take the ship to some high speed runs tomorrow, to test the injector assemblies. Will that be okay?"

He deflated. Literally. I could see his disappointment at getting back to ship's business. "I don't see why not."

"Thanks for this." I hefted the PADD, resisting the urge to shove it in the recycler. Perhaps I could accidentally delete its contents? I wondered if they were protected. If so, Hoshi might be amenable to helping. Feeling happier as the beginnings of a plan took shape, I said, "I better be getting back to Engineering."

"Right, Trip. Thank you for the talk. It's been most useful."

"No problem." Except for Miss Snow White and her entourage.

I made for the sanctuary of Engineering, wondering what I could possibly do about my reputation and the credibility of Movie Night.

* * *

TBC


	6. Chapter 6

Disclaimer: see Chapter 1.

A/N: Thanks for the encouraging reviews - it's good to learn people are enjoying this. And a repeat thank you to G.Eliot for her input.

* * *

**  
Chapter 6**

I stood at Malcolm's door and checked my chronometer. He had to be back to normal by now - didn't he? I braced myself and rang the bell.

"Trip." Malcolm appeared a little tired, but that maniacal intenseness had gone, to my relief.

"How do you feel?"

He gave a sheepish smile. "Okay. Back to my usual self - I think."

"Good. Are you ready for dinner?"

"Are you sure you want to risk it?" He made it a joke, but I could detect his underlying anxiety. His smile didn't quite reach his eyes.

I grinned at him. "Yeah. Come on. It's meatloaf tonight!"

He shuddered. "Ah, yes. Chef's speciality. Let's hope there are other options!"

"Well, there's always moldy stomach lining. Travis can recommend that."

"Moldy… I don't even want to contemplate that. I think I will stick with something nice and safe tonight, thank you, even if that does mean meatloaf!"

We set off for the Mess Hall. I wasn't sure how far to push it. I mean, he had been pretty funny about the beagles, but I didn't want to trigger anything that might still be lurking. It made for a strained conversation, with talk about duty rosters and such.

Eventually, I decided we had to get it into the open. Malcolm wasn't going to broach the subject - that was clear. It was up to me. Taking a deep breath, I said, "So - how much do you remember about when you were… affected by the medication?"

He took his time answering me. "This and that. Some things are quite clear, and others… I'm not so sure about." He reddened. I wondered what part exactly he was recalling. "I... uhh… made some log entries, but I haven't got up the nerve yet to listen to them."

"If you like, I'll listen to them for you, then tell you what they include." That _would_ be interesting!

Malcolm came to a startled full stop and made a gurgling noise. At last, it resolved into words. "Uh, no… no thanks, Trip. Thanks for the offer, though. It's just… I'd rather keep it to myself - what I said when I was round the bend."

"Yeah. I can understand that." It was disappointing but inevitable, I guess.

We resumed our course. Malcolm said, "I can't believe the things I did, what I said…"

"It wasn't your fault," I reassured him.

"I know, but it all had to be based on something didn't it? I mean, take all those things I said to Phlox - what he put in his message that I apparently said… " He winced. "Cuttlefish turds! I ask you…"

"But you didn't mean all that, did you?" I was sure it was the product of a deranged mind - for the most part.

"No. But I must admit," he dropped his voice and glanced around for eavesdroppers before continuing. "I do sometimes have my doubts about him."

"Yeah, but what you said…"

"I know! I can't believe I said all that! Honestly, Trip, I don't think like that - really I don't! I went to see Phlox, to explain to him, but I get the distinct feeling he didn't really believe me. It's… rather worrying." He chewed at his lower lip.

I guess it would be a valid concern for Malcolm, what with the amount of time he spends at Phlox's mercy. I made a mental note to follow up with Phlox on this. I didn't want Malcolm to suffer unnecessarily.

"I'll speak to him as well."

"Oh, would you, Trip? I would really appreciate that." He visibly relaxed.

"Yeah. No problem."

"Travis came by earlier to see how I was. I thought that was kind of him." Malcolm gave me a considering look.

"Yeah." 'Kind' my ass. I knew what Travis had been up to. Trying to get Malcolm to spill the beans and to persuade him to give water polo another chance.

I saw Malcolm's eye was still on me and gave him a confident grin back. Travis' project was down to Travis - and only Travis. I had a clear conscience where that was concerned. Um, except for placing my bets, of course, but that was no different to almost the whole crew, so yeah, I wasn't guilty.

We arrived at the Mess Hall to find we had plenty of options. I went for meatloaf - of course - and Malcolm picked up a curry with rice. Travis was already there, sitting talking intently with some friends. He had an empty plate in front of him - I guessed he hadn't been quite so adventurous this evening. I could also guess the subject of his conversation. The covert glances he was directing our way confirmed my suspicions.

Malcolm and I found an empty table and sat down.

"Things are looking up!" said Malcolm, as he considered his chicken madras or whatever it was. "A most acceptable alternative to meatloaf. Still, Chef has to cater for _all_ tastes!" He pulled an exaggerated face at my meatloaf.

"Yeah," I said, happy to play the game. I held my loaded fork up. "This is for the more refined palate, but I'm sure he can manage to lower himself for the rest of you!"

Malcolm gave a mock snort of derision. I was finally convinced he was back to his normal self, and started to relax.

We ate in appreciative silence, neither wanting a distraction from Chef's creations.

I considered the problem posed by the Captain's attempted hijack of Movie Night. Being the Captain, he has certain advantages… but there's always a solution, isn't there? I had already discovered that his list of musicals was protected by a labyrinthine password trail too complicated to believably delete it 'accidentally', even with Hoshi's assistance. How else could I deal with it?

I was distracted from my vital task by Travis, who stopped at our table on his way out.

"Hello, Commander, Lieutenant," he said respectfully. He didn't fool me. I could see him evaluating Malcolm. Travis can sound so innocent when he puts his mind to it.

"How was the moldy stomach lining tonight, huh?" I asked him, with a wink at Malcolm.

Travis looked like he might throw up, but managed to regain his composure. He gave a light laugh. "I decided to leave some for someone else - I don't want to be too greedy. Uhh, Lieutenant - so, no change of mind then, huh? No water polo tonight?"

Too casual, Travis, I thought. Way too casual. I was sure Malcolm would be suspicious.

Malcolm sat back and gave a huge, relieved grin. "No. Nor tonight and not ever!" he declared. "Water polo is permanently off the menu!"

Travis tried to return his smile, but it wasn't his best attempt. "Not ever?" he inquired, somewhat pitifully.

"Not ever!" said Malcolm, maintaining his grin. "And nothing else either. Not football, baseball, basketball… synchronized swimming… wellie throwing…" He ticked them off on the fingers of his left hand.

"Any sport, in fact." I offered. I guessed 'wellie throwing' must be in that category, though I'd never heard of it. It sounded dangerous.

"Correct!" Malcolm was triumphant.

"That's definite, then?" said Travis dismally, abandoning his sorry attempt at a smile. "Uhh. Right. I better go. There's something I need to do."

I said, "Yeah, Travis - I'll see you later. We need to discuss your _project_. I think you have some results for me." I wanted to get him in the right frame of mind for paying out my winnings.

He shook his head. "No, I don't think I do."

"Yes, we need to," I insisted. "I'll come by after I've eaten."

Travis sighed. "Okay, Commander." He sloped off.

Malcolm watched him go. He said thoughtfully, "Travis doesn't seem his normal self. Do you think he's all right? He seems kind of down."

"He'll get over it." I admit I was a little abrupt, but Travis' attitude had rankled with me. I knew I had won, and he was not about to wriggle out of it.

Malcolm shrugged. "If you say so." Then he stopped eating, put down his fork and said sincerely, "Thank you, Trip, for helping me when I was… ill."

"What are friends for? It wasn't so bad, anyway."

"No?"

I laughed, pleased that he seemed to be coming to terms with it all. "No. Actually, it was kinda amusing!"

"Oh?"

I put on an English accent - "I wouldn't make a good toast rack." I snorted. It was a good impression, if I do say so myself.

Malcolm gave a wry smile and picked up his fork again.

There was so much material. I intoned, "Put a tail on Porthos. He's in league with the Andorians."

Malcolm's smile slipped a little. He stabbed at a piece of meat.

"Those beagles - cunning little devils." I let out a bellow.

Malcolm paused his eating, and said, "Okay, I get the picture."

"What do you call a Denobulan with eight legs? A tarantula!" I wheezed at that one. I didn't know why I'd missed how hilarious it was before. It was that off-the-wall English-type humor, I now realized. Leastways, I thought it was. A piece of meatloaf went down the wrong way as I tried to control my amusement.

"I said, okay, Trip. I was ill, wasn't I?" Malcolm wasn't laughing. He wasn't even smiling.

"Ill? You were completely loopy!" I spluttered.

Malcolm cringed as heads turned in our direction. "Keep your voice down! Everyone is looking at us."

I raised my eyebrows. Did he really think it was a secret? On this ship? I said levelly, "They already know, Malcolm. Don't let it bother you."

He paled. "Oh? And how do they already know, huh? Have you been gossiping?"

That slur again! "I do not gossip. For your information, you were not exactly 'low profile'."

He gritted his teeth. "I see. Now, can we forget about it all for a bit?"

"If that's what you want."

"Yes, it is."

"Don't you want to know what you did, exactly?"

"No, thank you."

"Sure?"

"Yes. Positive."

I shrugged. I had it all stored up. I'm sure it will come in useful in the future sometime.

Oh, well, if he didn't want to talk about that, there was still something else to clear up. "So, Malcolm. What you said about the water polo - you definitely aren't going to watch it?"

He shook his head and grunted a 'No' as his mouth was full.

"Did you tell the Captain you had made a mistake, that you didn't want to watch it after all?" This was it - I would get to the bottom of the Great Water Polo Escape. I had tried to put it out of my mind, but now I was so close to solving the mystery, I couldn't let it slide.

Malcolm swallowed and gave me a calculating look. "What's it worth?"

"Excuse me?"

"To tell you? If I tell you how I managed to avoid it, what will you do in return?"

"Hell, Malcolm, why can't you just tell me how you did it? Everyone on the ship must know by now you're not going to be watching any more water polo. I don't see why it's such a big deal."

"You're the one that's making a big deal of it. You and Travis. I wonder why?" He glared at me.

Damn. Busted. I wondered how long he had suspected? I remembered his comment about Travis' visit earlier, and how he'd observed my reaction. He really is a devious so and so.

I couldn't stop myself squirming under that unforgiving stare.

Malcolm said coldly, "You need to 'discuss a project' with Travis, don't you? What was the bet? How long it was before the idiotic Englishman surrendered?" He scowled at me and I suddenly hoped that he was indeed fully recovered. Dangerous and crazy would be an unbeatable combination.

I wasn't stupid enough to confess, so I merely shrugged and made a non-committal noise.

He glared at me some more. Then he smiled, but it was the kind of smile that sent a chill over me. Possibly bordering on 'evil', I would say.

Malcolm said carefully, "Tell you what. You let me choose the Movie Night program and I will tell you."

"No way!" My answer was immediate and forceful.

He shrugged. "Okay," he said mildly.

I watched as he concentrated again on his food. I wanted to know, but that was too great a price to pay. Picking the movies is the best thing about running Movie Night. No - the best thing is watching the after-effects, but as they are dependent on the choice, it amounts to the same thing.

My best selection to date has got to be 'Alien'. Seeing Malcolm trying to deal with a panicky crew after that was the best! Of course, they had already been primed by showings of '2001 - A Space Odyssey' and 'Quatermass and the Pit' in previous weeks. Oh, yeah, and Travis had come up with some 'interesting' glitches for our systems which added to the overall movie immersion experience. We should have the slogan: 'See the Movie - Then Live It!' but I guess that would tip people off. And possibly put them off - uhh, depending on the movie.

I couldn't give all that up.

Malcolm carried on eating, pointedly ignoring me.

Perhaps I could meet him partway? A small sacrifice was worth it, wasn't it? I took a deep breath to ready myself. This was tough…

"Tell you what, you can choose next week's movie. How's that?" I winced even as I made the offer. A little part of me died. I knew what his pick would be - he'd been badgering me about it often enough.

He looked up at me, then shook his head. "Nope."

"I thought you wanted to watch 'Die Hard 32'?"

"'Die Hard 32: The Remake'," he corrected me. "Yes, I do, but that's not all I want to see. One movie isn't enough."

My heart plummeted. "How many then?"

"Four month's worth."

"You gotta be kidding! One month."

"Three."

"Two!"

"Done!" Malcolm slammed a hand down to seal the deal.

Oh no! What had I done? Two months of movies chosen by Malcolm. The bidding frenzy had carried me away. It reminded me that time I had acquired a hunk of Green Kryptonite... no, of course not, not _real_ Green Kryptonite. It had been real dough, though.

I guess I looked kinda shell-shocked, 'cause he gave me a wicked grin, and said, "Ready to renege already, Mister Tucker?"

"Hell, no. You have to be one hundred percent truthful with me, though."

"I'm hurt! As if I would be anything but!" Yeah, he didn't sound hurt. In fact, he was totally reveling in it. He mastered his glee and promised sincerely, "Of course, I will be entirely candid with you." Then he spoiled the effect by laughing quietly to himself.

I didn't think this was anything to laugh about. Movie Night is not a joking matter, in my opinion. But then I had a stroke of inspiration!

I said, "Good. That's all I ask. Oh, and another thing - the Captain has asked me to alternate with his selections, so you'll have to include those as well." Genius! I am a genius! I could get in the Captain's good books and yet the audience would blame Malcolm. Yeah. Perhaps this deal had at least one redeeming factor.

"The Captain? When did he ask you to do that?" asked Malcolm suspiciously.

"Today, as a matter of fact. If you don't believe me, here's the evidence." I pulled the offending PADD from my pocket and slid it across the table to him.

Malcolm sniffed at it and switched it on. I saw his expression change from distrust to confusion, then disbelief and finally shock. He looked up with wide-eyes and gasped out, "'Snow White'? This has to be a joke!"

"Nope. No joke. To quote the Captain, 'It's got great songs although the Queen is a little scary'. Uhh, I guess he was joking about the scary part."

"I sincerely hope so," muttered Malcolm, checking back down as if to reassure himself he really had seen what he had seen. He shook his head, aghast. "I can't use this list!"

I said airily, "Talk to the Captain, then. Explain to him why you aren't going to provide the mix he requested."

I knew Malcolm wouldn't - couldn't.

He chewed at his lower lip as he scrolled down some more. He said, "I'll tell the audience who chose what. I am not going to be thought of as a man who would want to watch… gah… 'Bedknobs and Broomsticks'."

I thought I'd misheard him, but no - there it was on the list. I suppressed a laugh, and said, "You'll have to sit through it. That's one of the organizer's duties, to make sure it all goes smoothly."

He grunted. "Hmm. Perhaps I could run them as double-bills? Start with one of the Captain's movies then follow with one of mine to wash away the nasty taste. Yeah… that documentary film on the development of energy beam weapons would go okay with 'The Sound of Music'."

I gave him credit for lateral thinking - a double feature was not a bad idea - but he was going to wreck my audience figures. I sighed. I would have to put a lot of effort into publicity, so they knew when to return again after he had done his stint.

"It's do-able," announced Malcolm thoughtfully, tapping the tabletop with a finger. He gave me a tight smile, and added a glum, "Heigh-ho."

I snorted. Do-able, my ass! "Oh yeah? How many do you think you'll get to sit through your program?" I was tempted to add my own 'Snow White' reference by calling him Dopey but managed to quash the impulse.

"I can guarantee the Armory team-"

"You are not going to make it an order?" I exclaimed. Surely even Malcolm couldn't be that dictatorial?

"It would be educational for them."

I couldn't believe it. He actually sounded serious. I studied him for signs he was pulling my leg, but was faced with an impeccably blank expression.

"'The Sound of Music' - educational?" I said, imagining some of those big Security guys being forced to watch a story about a nun running around on a mountain, dressed in a curtain.

"No, of course not," said Malcolm. Then his eyes half-closed as he said musingly, "Although there is that plan for escaping under the enemy's nose by singing a farewell song." He gave a start as he realized he'd let slip some revealing information. In an attempt to cover up, he said hastily, "No, I meant 'Big Beam Weapons: the Full History'. Don't be ridiculous, Trip."

"Wouldn't dream of it," I said acidly, wondering exactly how Malcolm had acquired a detailed knowledge of the plot of 'The Sound of Music'. Not only that, but a part of the plot that occurred a long way into the movie. Of course, how I know about it is neither here nor there…

Malcolm switched off the PADD and returned to his food.

Damn! I was forgetting something important here. "So? What happened?"

"Hmm?"

"How did you get out of watching water polo?"

Malcolm grinned at me as he chewed. He swallowed and then shoveled another forkful into his mouth. Malcolm is one of the most deliberately annoying people I know.

I didn't say anything. I can be patient. Then I realized my hand was clenched so tight on my fork it was painful.

He smiled and said, "Well, Trip. I can honestly say, the reason I am not going to watch any water polo is…" He paused to draw out the tension. "… sheer natural talent."

Huh? What was _that_ supposed to mean? That didn't tell me anything. It was as bad as 'by mutual consent'. "Explain that, would ya?"

He shrugged. "Like I said, it is a natural aptitude, if you will."

"Natural? What does that mean?" It was like he was speaking an entirely different language. Words were emerging from his mouth but failing to arrange themselves in any meaningful pattern.

"Innate or inherent. Not something I had to explain to the Captain. I didn't have to say a word." He added impishly, "Scout's honor!"

I blinked and ran my hand over my face. Was I stupid or was that not a real informative explanation? "Malcolm, I need a little more here."

"Sorry. That's all I'm saying on the subject. Now, I've fulfilled my end of the bargain - I expect you to do the same. I'll start to put a movie program together."

Exactly_ how_ did he think he had fulfilled the bargain?

Before I could follow up, Malcolm changed the subject. "The Captain came to see me earlier."

"Oh?"

"Yes. He found out about my… ahh… unfortunate response to the medication. He said he would take it into consideration when making a report of today's… events." Malcolm winced and prodded at his rice with his fork. "The Captain said I wouldn't be held accountable."

"I see." I was still thinking about his cryptic comment concerning 'natural talent'. I didn't think Malcolm had met the conditions of our agreement, but wasn't entirely sure. But then I caught his eye and I saw how upset he was, before he blinked and looked away. I guess it's no fun to discover you were out of your tree for several hours - and it was particularly tough on Malcolm seeing as how controlled he usually is. I was prepared to cut him a little slack. He'd had a rough day, all in all.

I said, "It wasn't your fault, right? So you shouldn't be blamed for it."

"I suppose so. I can't help feeling I should have been able to control myself better."

"I expect if it had been anyone else, they would have shot up the entire ship and not just their quarters!"

He flinched at that comment and tried to cover up with a weak smile. Damn! Me and my big mouth.

"I'm sorry, Malcolm. That was a little insensitive of me. But it's true. Who knows how the rest of us would react? Still - it's all over now, isn't it? You can forget about it."

"Yes, indeed," he said. "That's what I try to tell myself." Then his whole demeanor changed, like a switch toggling over. Off with the gloom, and in its place a cheerful buoyancy. "The Captain also gave me some excellent news. He has agreed to let me carry out gunnery practice tomorrow!"

"What? That's the first I've heard about it!"

Malcolm became animated, his eyes shining. "I'm going to use the opportunity to get to the bottom of our targeting sensor array once and for all. Lots of precision fire and recording the displacement of shot from target. I've already got a lot of the sequences worked out - I'm going to use combinations, also, of course. And I'm going to be firing off some torpedoes as well. It'll take all day!" He gave a contented sigh. "It's brilliant!"

I blinked. All day! That was not good, not good at all. I said, "But we need to take the ship to high warp tomorrow - to check out the injector adjustments."

Malcolm dismissed my objection with airy confidence. "Oh no. The Captain says my target practice has top priority. You can do the high warp stuff after I've completed my practice - if there's time."

"But I need to go to warp 4.5 or higher." The Captain knew about the work on the injectors, so what was he doing letting Malcolm have a free rein tomorrow?

"There might be time to do it later, as I said. However, I will be using the ship as a weapons platform for most of the day."

"Enterprise - a 'weapons platform'?" How could he talk about the ship like that? Had he no respect?

He gave a broad smile. "She will be tomorrow. About time too. When was the last time we had a proper gunnery session?"

"Not that long ago."

"Yes it was. Do you know that in the days of sail, Royal Navy captains - the better ones anyway - used to exercise their guns every day? They were able to obtain impressive accuracy and rate of fire."

"You may not have noticed, but Enterprise does not have any sails or the need to drill men to fire broadsides!"

"The principle is the same."

"No, it's not. We are not a warship," I pointed out.

"But we get involved in shooting matches."

"For which we are adequately prepared."

"One can always improve, Commander."

He always has an answer.

I'd had enough of verbal tennis. I wasn't going to be able to shift Malcolm's plans. He was blissfully staring into space, no doubt dreaming about exploding asteroids. The only person who could do something sensible was the Captain.

x - x - x

"Yes, Trip. I did tell Malcolm we would set aside tomorrow for his targeting practice."

"But, Captain, I need to finish off the final injector work and then take the ship to high warp. I can't do that if Malcolm is sitting around taking pot shots at some harmless heap of rock!"

The Captain smiled sympathetically. "I'm sorry, Trip, but Malcolm has been recommending we do this for a long time. It's not one of my favorite things, but perhaps he has a point?"

I pushed away thoughts of bright copper kettles stuffed with kittens - I think I have become infected by musicals - and said, "As far as I can see, those cannons of his work perfectly fine. Most of the time anyway."

"That's what I keep telling him, but Malcolm just won't agree. He insists he can do better."

"But you're the Captain…" I said helplessly.

He gave a short laugh. "I know, Trip, but that doesn't guarantee I can do whatever I want. Malcolm has had a rough time today and I wanted to help get him over it."

I was defeated. The Captain can't resist doing a good deed, due to his scouting background I guess, and once his mind is set there is no shaking him.

The Captain clapped me on the shoulder. "You'll be able to make the final injector adjustments and tests when Malcolm's playing with his guns, won't you? If we have time, we can do your high-speed run later, but if not, we'll carry it out the following day. It's only a confirmatory procedure isn't it?"

"The high warp part - yeah, it is. Okay, I guess I can live with that." The Captain was right. It wasn't impossible. Just… annoying, not to get it all completed seeing as how everyone had been busting their guts to achieve it in the shortest time. They'd still have the satisfaction of finalizing the adjustments though. Confirmation could wait - would have to wait - that's all.

I left the Captain's quarters feeling a might happier, that is, until I noticed I was humming 'Doe, a deer'.

x - x - x

After seeing the Captain, I made my way to my next port of call - Travis.

I couldn't win on the 'how long Malcolm sticks water polo' bet, as that had been declared invalid, but the 'how he cracks'? Well, I was dead on with that, wasn't I? I was determined to collect my winnings. I might have to yield to Malcolm's cannons but I could still collect on his bout of loony behavior.

I rang the doorbell with some confidence.

Travis opened the door and greeted me without his usual geniality. I suspected a lot of people were giving him a hard time.

I decided not to tell him that Malcolm had it all figured out - that he knew about the betting pool. I was sure Travis would find out one way or another. If he was very unfortunate, he might find he had been mysteriously set down for extra unarmed combat practice. But then, Travis doesn't seem to mind that so much.

"Hi, Travis!" I decided to leave no room for discussion. "I'm here to collect my winnings."

Travis consulted a PADD. As if he needed to! He knew full well what my choice had been. He said, "I'm sorry, Commander, the 'how long he sticks with it' was declared null and void, and as I have it down here, you went for 'rampage with a phase pistol' for 'how he cracks'."

"Yeah, that's right. So I win on the 'how he cracks'."

"Um, no. I'm afraid not, Sir." Travis was regretful but firm.

What? What was he playing at? There wasn't any doubt at all. I said, "I saw the evidence. Malcolm admitted to me he shot up his quarters. He even got pulled up before the Captain for it."

Travis shook his head. "I'm sorry. That does meet the requirements."

This wasn't good enough. I know Travis has his sources. He can't have missed what had happened. The whole ship knew about it - there were so many witnesses.

"So - let me get this straight. Malcolm goes berserk and - with a phase pistol - fires off wild shots, and you say that doesn't count? I think you need to explain, 'cause I don't see it myself."

Travis said unhesitatingly - and I got the impression I wasn't the first he'd spouted off to - "The dictionary definition of 'rampage' is: 'turbulently or aggressively excited behavior or rushing about'."

"Yeah? Well I call firing a phase pistol 'aggressive'."

"Yes, Commander - possibly. But as I understand it, Lieutenant Reed believed he was acting in self-defense, hence it would be defensive and not aggressive."

I opened my mouth to dispute the point, but shut it again when I realized I couldn't. It did, however, show that Travis knew exactly what Malcolm had done. I still couldn't understand how he could claim I hadn't won.

I got Travis to repeat his definition. There was still room for debate as I saw the situation. I said, "Okay, say we rule out 'aggressive' - hypothetically, of course - it still leaves 'turbulently' and 'rushing about'."

Get out of that, Travis! I should be a lawyer! Ha!

Travis gave a grin. "There was no witness. It is not known if the Lieutenant was acting in a turbulent manner or rushing about. Based on available knowledge, he probably acted with cold professionalism."

"What?" I exclaimed. What kind of double-talk was that!

"Well, Commander, does he get unduly agitated in facing an enemy?"

"He must… sometimes." Malcolm was usually chilled out about it, though. Travis had me there.

"Yeah? Enough to be 'rushing about'?" He shook his head slowly. "I don't think so."

I saw my dough dwindling away to nothing. I sighed. "I guess not."

"And also, there isn't a lot of space in his quarters to rush about, is there?"

Dropping my head, I admitted final defeat. "No."

Travis smiled again - a broader one. "Sorry, Commander, but I've got to play fair."

I snorted. Play fair! If he played fair like that too often he wouldn't get any takers for future 'projects'.

Deciding I had had enough, I turned to go, but then something struck me. "Travis - did anyone win on 'how he cracks'? How did you define it?"

"Malcolm cracked by destroying his animal sculpture."

"So no one won?"

"One person did - Hoshi."

"Oh."

I was sore Travis had not agreed with me, but at least he had paid out to Hoshi. But what strange intuition or calculation had led her to come up with the beagle sculpture? I resolved to discuss any of Travis' future projects with her before laying down any more bets. She seemed to have an instinct for them.

I decided that perhaps I was not cut out for a life of gambling. Fortunately, I am better with plasma injectors. Tomorrow would see my project completed. That is, bar the high warp tests, given Malcolm's intent to fully capitalize on the Captain's lapse of judgment. Enterprise a 'weapons' platform' indeed! I consoled myself with the thought that soon the injectors would be purring sweetly and non-turbulently, however you wanted to define that. Yeah - that brought a satisfying, warm glow that no cannon could destroy.

* * *

TBC 


	7. Chapter 7

Disclaimer: see Chapter 1

A/N: Thanks for taking the time to review. I'm pleased people are still following this.

* * *

**Chapter 6**

The next day at breakfast, I saw Malcolm had managed to get a table all to himself by littering it with PADDs, plates and glaring at anyone who came anywhere near him. Most of the time, he was more concerned with his PADD than glaring. He was making funny little grunts and satisfied noises as he worked away.

I decided I could live with his target practice. After all, I had almost finished with the injectors. The Captain was right. It wasn't ideal, but the high warp testing could wait. So while Malcolm was planning away before his shift, I was running through the last part of the injector stuff in my head.

I took a last gulp of coffee and saw Malcolm was particularly engrossed in something. He was frowning at the PADD, his finger hovering over the keys, and had stayed in that indecisive pose for some time.

I finished off and made for the door. As I passed by Malcolm on my way to Engineering, I said loudly, "All set, then, Lieutenant?" I craned to see what was holding his attention.

He jumped, jerking the PADD toward himself before I could read anything. He said, "Uh, yes, thank you, Commander." He started to say more, but then merely nodded and got back to work.

Oh well, if he wanted to be uncommunicative…

x - x - x

In Engineering, everything was humming. Even me. Everyone had pulled all the stops out - gone above and beyond - to finish off the adjustments and make the tests. Once I had confirmed it was all working as it should, we would lock off and go back to the usual set-up. The buffers on the power drains had down their job in keeping the system stable, but it would be good to be able to get rid of them.

We were now making the final changes to the fifth injector assembly - the last one. I hummed some more. I thought this would've taken days to fix but my team had proved me wrong.

A small tremble underfoot told me that the starboard forward cannon had been fired. The power output of the impulse engines showed the corresponding expected dip. That had been going on for hours now. No doubt the dense asteroid field had taken casualties and was now a sparse wasteland, with any remaining asteroids fearful for their continued existence as they saw their companions meet messy ends.

I made another delicate alteration.

Then stared at the glitch in the output trace. What the…?

Before I could do anything - not that there was anything I could have done - the glitch morphed into a spike, the readings went haywire and the fifth injector assembly went into uncontrolled feedback, rapidly unraveling the fourth, then the third… all trying to self-correct and failing miserably. It was over in an instant - the entire injector bank in free-fall, from fifth to first.

I came to my senses and shut it all down. It wasn't dangerous, but all that effort, all those minute adjustments, tests, hours of detailed, painstaking work… all destroyed. I could've wept.

In fact, I did hear a sob to my left. And then another to my right.

We were all stunned by the disaster.

What had happened? Had the buffering failed? But there were back-ups, and back-ups to the back-ups.

No - I realized with growing anger as I checked out the system. No - the buffers were fine and dandy. What wasn't, was the unauthorized drain I had just found - a tap from the main power system. Unauthorized and hence un-buffered.

It didn't take me a nanosecond to figure out who on this ship would be interested in stealing my energy. There was only one person who was sneaky enough and arrogant enough to do that! I was furious. I was going to rip his head off and fire it into the nearest star, closely followed by all his other component parts.

But first I had to secure the system and get repairs - totally avoidable repairs - started.

I gritted my teeth and tried to speak calmly. "Right, people. Revert to standard settings for now. I know it's difficult, but we can't leave it like this."

They nodded dispiritedly.

I paused only long enough to comm the Captain. "Tucker to Archer."

_"Yes, Tr-"_

"Captain - we've lost warp capability, just to let you know. We should have it restored in an hour - low warp anyway. Tucker out."

I snapped the comm closed and went to confront the criminal.

x - x - x

Sure enough, when I got to the Armory, there is our resident gun-nut tweaking my plasma relays with his back to me. The power tap was there in full view with its obscene connectors. All the evidence I needed.

"And just what do you think you are doing, Lieutenant?" I growled, keeping from an undignified yell with immense difficulty. I was furious. He _knows_ he does not tamper with systems-level stuff without my express say-so. I had been through this before with him enough times.

"Commander." Malcolm turned about and straightened up, giving me a self-satisfied smirk. "I am increasing the feed to the forward cannons by two percent. It should bring quite a satisfactory improvement. I didn't want to bother you, and as you can see…" he spread his arms wide, "… it is working admirably."

He grinned at me. He actually had the unmitigated gall to grin at me when he was messing with things that did not concern him - and when that messing had brought the injector assemblies crashing down around our ears.

"I have not given you permission to do that, Lieutenant." I glowered at him, thinking about all our wasted effort and wanting to fry him on the warp core.

It must have been impressive because he did actually take step back.

"I ran it by the Captain," he said, less confidently.

I snarled, "Unhook that now! That's an order!"

I have observed on many occasions that Malcolm follows the rules when it suits him, but give him a perfectly reasonable order that doesn't quite meet his own precise requirements and… well, you might as well not bother having that extra rank pip. Defiant, obstructive…

As I had anticipated, Malcolm simply ignored my order and said, "But it's all set now! It'll take ages to re-do it."

I couldn't believe he was telling me it was going to 'take ages to re-do'. What about the plasma injectors, huh?

I spat out, "I don't care. If you won't disconnect it, I will!" I started toward the jumble of wires that showed where he was stealing my energy from.

"Now wait a moment, Commander," said Malcolm quickly, pushing in front of me. "The Captain has authorised this."

"The Captain is not the Chief Engineer," I shouted at him, not caring that everyone in the Armory was watching our free show.

"No. The Captain outranks the Chief Engineer," he shot back, as quick as anything. See what I mean about obeying regulations when it suits him? Now the number of pips did figure, huh?

I worked hard to keep my voice even. "You do realize, we will have to do all those injector adjustments and tests again, because _you_ altered the power balance in the system before we completed them, huh? Days of work - lost. You realize, we now we have no warp capability? I sure hope your guns are working, because we are in no position to outrun anyone! 'Course, you'd need to be able to fire straight too!"

Malcolm's eyes widened and his mouth dropped open. I don't think he had known what his meddling had done. But then he said, "Well, if you have to do the adjustments again, anyway, you may as well let me carry on, mightn't you? Wait until I've finished?"

No 'sorry', no 'I didn't realize', no nothing. Only his damned cannons! It took me all my self-possession not to knock him down.

I snarled, "I spent all of yesterday looking after your sorry ass, Lieutenant. I don't know why I bothered."

He said sharply, "I didn't ask you to, Commander. I would have been perfectly fine without your _help_."

"Oh, yeah? You think so? You should have heard yourself! I bet you would have shot Porthos!"

"I wouldn't have done that," said Malcolm uncertainly.

I pressed my advantage. "Oh yes, you would. What was it you said? Oh, yeah, the beagles were armed with their own phase pistols! That they were conspiring with Andorians. Not exactly what you want to hear from the guy in charge of Security! You were so crazy you fired off an unauthorized phase pistol in your quarters!"

That was a low blow, but his attitude had riled me. Riled? No - let's say I was incandescent with rage.

Malcolm flushed. His eyes darted around at his fascinated men then back to me. "You can't resist can you?" he said, with bitterness. "I was ill."

"Yeah, you were and I was happy to help you. But it seems you can't return the favor."

"But there's no point now-"

"I don't want to hear it, Lieutenant."

"You're being unreasonable-"

"_I'm_ being unreasonable?"

"Yes."

"Forget it, Lieutenant. I want that thing disconnected - now!" I waved my arm at the offending contraption.

"But, Commander, the Captain said it was okay."

I lowered my voice so that only Malcolm could hear and not any of the onlookers. "Since when was the Captain an expert on injector systems testing? You _know_ you should have come to me with this first, before you did anything. We've had this discussion before, Lieutenant. More than once. And are you going to trust someone to authorize you to mess with _my_ systems when that person thinks 'Bedknobs and Broomsticks' is a classic movie?"

I know - ridiculous, but I was seething.

He clamped his mouth shut, unable to argue the point. I moved around him to reach the equipment, determined he was not going to profit by his cavalier behavior.

Then I saw a sly smile spread across Malcolm's face. I didn't like the look of that and paused, wondering what he had up his sleeve.

"How was that lozenge?" said Malcolm, too casually.

"Lozenge?" I could feel myself redden, even as I registered he was trying to distract me.

"Or was it two, Commander? You liked them didn't you?"

How did he know about the second one? "You didn't tell me it was your medication," I countered.

"You wanted to know where I got them from."

I felt a stirring of interest despite myself. I wondered how long it would be before the cravings disappeared completely. I bit my lip.

Malcolm gave a bark of laughter. "They came from Phlox of course."

Yeah. That made sense. Of course it would be Phlox, now I came to think about it. I guess I had been trying _not_ to think about it, though.

Malcolm smiled more broadly. "I wish I had a camera here."

Huh?

Then he gave a satisfied grunt. "Ha! What am I saying?" He took three paces around me while I turned to follow - I wanted him in full view. He pointed upward. "Camera," he said, without taking his eyes off me.

I glanced above him and right into the maw of a security cam. So - was I supposed to be impressed that he knew where the security cams were located in the Armory?

But there was more to come. Apparently now the stage was set to Malcolm's satisfaction. He looked around triumphantly at his team, then back to me. He crossed his arms. "Think about it, Commander. I got those lozenges from Phlox."

"So?" I tried to sound unconcerned, but his manner was too confident. He thought he held a winning hand, although I'd got no idea what form that might take. The hairs on the back of my neck prickled.

"Guess what they were made from? No? Go on, hazard a guess."

"I don't know and I don't care."

"Perhaps you want to place a wager on it? You and how many others? What, oh, what could they be?" He gave a thin smile.

"A wager?"

He jerked his chin forward and unfolded his arms. His voice hardened. "Yes. You know, a bet - like you had going on me."

"That was just a little harmless fun. No need to get upset about it. Anyway, as I said, I do not care what the lozenges are made from. Now - stand down and let me get on with this."

Malcolm laughed softly. "Oh, I think you will care. What did those lozenges remind you of? Spherical, chewy, a liquid center…?"

Uhh, yeah, what did they remind me of?

He leaned real close and shouted, "Those lozenges were the eyes of alien centipedes. Bugs, Commander! They were bug eyes!"

Oh. My. God.

They were. They were bug eyes. As soon as Malcolm said the words, I knew he was right. Bits of bugs. In my mouth. I had chewed them. I had swallowed them. I remembered rolling one around in my mouth, taking my time, savoring its unusual texture and flavor. I spluttered, "And you knew that when… when…"

"Yes, Commander. I knew you would get a kick out of it! That's why I offered you one of my precious lozenges." His smile was pure malice.

I didn't care anymore what unholy union Malcolm was making between his corrupting cannons and my power output. I needed a bathroom - and quick!

x - x - x

I got off the comm call with the Captain madder than ever.

_"Oh, I'm sorry, Trip. I didn't even consider that it might cut across your injector testing. Well, what's done is done. Never mind. Let Malcolm finish his gunnery practice - it's going well, don't you think? - and we'll re-run the injector work tomorrow."_

_We'll_ re-run the injector work? More like, I will, or rather my team and I will.

I sat down and let my annoyance with Malcolm build. So he'd had a difficult time recently, huh? Tough. He wasn't the only one.

Malcolm had not been the least bit grateful for me acting like a nursemaid to him yesterday, which hadn't been all fun and games. I'd been worried about the damned sonofabitch and yet today he'd treated my concern as if it were nothing.

Then he had deliberately bypassed me by going to the Captain. I had no doubt at all that it had been deliberate - he had known exactly what he was doing - solely so he could feed extra energy to the weapons from the main system. He knew I might raise an objection, a perfectly valid objection at that.

Then, when he had discovered he had wrecked the injector work, he hadn't even apologized - to me or to my team. His only thought had been for his precious cannons.

Malcolm had messed me around with Movie Night - again, I was beginning to suspect he had intentionally been misleading and it was all premeditated. Our 'deal' that was no real deal. It was totally one-sided.

As each point hammered home, I felt my indignation ratchet up another step.

Okay, I admitted, he might not have been firing on all cylinders when he foisted that lozenge on me, but there had to be something which prompted him to do it. And he certainly knew what he was doing when he told me what the lozenges were. That was unforgivable in my book.

I wished I hadn't thought about that again. My stomach attempted to crawl up my throat while doing a samba. I took another rapid tour of the bathroom facilities, facilities I was now acutely familiar with in the closest detail.

When I returned, I knew what to do. I was determined to get one up on Malcolm. Preferably two up - it would put me ahead of the game for once.

I went into main Engineering. Everyone was standing around listlessly, putting the final touches to the standard injector settings. Warp speed would be available again soon.

But with Enterprise being a mere 'weapons platform', as Malcolm had so rudely put it, there was little more to do. I couldn't ask them to start again on the adjustments – there was no point anyway with Malcolm's scheme still going.

Normally, my people would be glad of the freedom to catch up with important but non-urgent tasks. Not today. They knew they would be starting from scratch with the injector assemblies tomorrow, and we hadn't even had the fun of a top speed run.

A power spike on the main readout showed Malcolm had stolen another chunk of our output and squirted it through his cannons.

"Direct hit," said Vella expressionlessly, as she monitored the practice. "Again."

I had to do something about this prevailing attitude. "Okay, everyone. There's still plenty to get on with. Let's get going," I called, clapping my hands together to wake them up. "Otherwise it'll be shore leave on an asteroid and I'll let Lieutenant Reed practice on you! Where's that PADD?"

It was a poor joke but it raised a few smiles and people started to function again. I said, "You put in the effort now and I promise some fun later." And fun there would be.

I pulled up the comms system schematic on my terminal and isolated the panel in Malcolm's quarters. It would require finesse but it was possible to get an open channel. I regretted the lack of video, but I couldn't count on any cooperation from Security. I wasn't even going to risk asking them. Audio would do just fine.

I worked away at the task until I had fixed it, then retreated to my office. "I'm taking an early lunch. No one is to interrupt me unless it is urgent, you understand?"

"Yes, Sir," came the chorus back.

I shut the door and settled down for some real fun.

I'd got some useful material via Travis, who'd got hold of it I don't know how. I didn't want to know how. It was security cam footage from the night of 'Alien' - the night T'Pol will never forget. I spent a short time familiarizing myself with it. There was so much potential here! I couldn't wait to get started.

I pulled up an image from Cam B24 and clicked through frame by frame until I got to a good sequence, one where Malcolm looked a complete idiot, skulking around the corridor with his phase pistol at the ready.

Travis had been right - Malcolm doesn't really do 'rampage'.

I added in some music from 'The Good, the Bad and the Ugly', enlarging the image until Malcolm's face filled the entire screen.

A quick change of theme to a tune from 'Bedknobs and Broomsticks' and then I overlaid some fake cartoonish undersea stuff on top of the video, with fish weaving past and making goo-goo eyes at Malcolm.

Damn, this was fun.

More music… the theme from 'Jaws' to build tension as Malcolm stalked his terrifying prey: Crewman Smith, who frankly is not the most menacing of creatures. Still, he was all I had to work with, and the music did help the fear factor a bit. On the plus side, Smith was a little more realistic than the shark.

I intercut wildly from camera to camera, from Malcolm to Smith - from ahead, from above, from behind. We are so well equipped with cameras you could put a whole feature movie together without getting bored with the angles. I was finding latent movie-making talents I never knew I had. All that time sitting through the best moviedom had to offer was paying off. Oh yeah, I thought. This was good!

I found an excellent overhead shot as Malcolm crept back, uncertain as to what armaments Smith had. Then more of Smith, wandering aimlessly down the corridor waving a hose nozzle around, with a fertilizer backpack and clutching his stomach. Poor man. He had been quite vulnerable to the influence of 'Alien'. I must see if I can get him to watch 'Event Horizon'.

Then came T'Pol's grand entrance, walking as stately as ever and entirely oblivious of the peril she would soon find herself in. Some nice lighthearted music here.

Another shot of Malcolm looking stupid. Ha! There were so many of those to choose from. I added the Laurel and Hardy theme tune for this bit as he waddled along.

Then I cut to a close-up of T'Pol's catsuit as that was to feature later. Hmm. It was a little blurry, but not too bad. Then a lingering view from behind for Malcolm's benefit - I'm not totally unfeeling. I wondered what he'd say to that!

I made some more rapid cuts between all three protagonists as they came together on a collision course. Then I added more from 'The Good, the Bad and the Ugly'. I'd let Malcolm decide who is who.

I needed something pompous for 'Malcolm's theme'. Then, I had it - the theme from the 'Bridge on the River Kwai' - 'Colonel Bogey'. Perfect!

Now, I was sure I had a pic of… the alien from 'Alien'. Yeah, found it. Then if I teamed it with… hmm… a dinosaur. Yeah, Barney the dinosaur! Oh, I have so many influences in my work!

I found if I jiggled the video back and forth, it looked like Malcolm was doing a little dance. I had to stop there for a while because I couldn't see what I was doing through the tears.

Then I added some rap music for Malcolm to dance to. I couldn't stop laughing. I just had to play that again, and again, and again…

There was an uncertain knock at the door. "Sir, I know you said no disturbances, but are you all right? We heard some noises…"

"Yeah. I'm fine. Carry on!" I wiped a tear away from my eye and tried to stifle my guffaws.

In the next part, I cut it to make it look like Malcolm was running away from Smith, who was looking quite pathetic at this point. The power of the editor!

I had another laughter break.

Then I played the dance part again. I wondered if you could make that into a game of some kind?

Then I thought I'd try some arty, symbolic stuff. I started with an image of a phase cannon followed by one of Malcolm. He couldn't compete with that. Or a torpedo. Even better! I added the torpedo part in as well. He needed taking down a peg or two.

Then came the final assault. I added the '1812 Overture' over the video. It fit the action perfectly. Smith screamed his head off and sprayed T'Pol. T'Pol stood rigidly while the liquid fertilizer drenched her. Then Malcolm rounded the corner - too late - called a warning and fired.

I accessed the Science Lab notes and added in shot of T'Pol's catsuit from the investigation following the incident.

Then, over that last lingering shot of the catsuit, I added Malcolm's announcement over the shipwide comm, very serious in tone: "The threat has been contained". Then I gave it some echo and sampled it.

Then I showed the threat: Porthos!

I had to pause again to catch my breath. I decided I'd missed my calling in life. I carried on, adding more touches, but eventually I had to tell myself to stop work on it. I could've put together hours more of this material.

I knew I had a masterpiece.

I'd be ready to roll as soon as Mister Reed had finished stealing my energy output. I was planning to give Malcolm his own private premiere.

* * *

TBC


	8. Chapter 8

Disclaimer: see Chapter 1

A/N: Thank you for the great reviews. I'm afraid I'm going to have to disappoint some of you, as this is the final chapter.

* * *

**Chapter 8**

All was prepared, ready to go. As soon as the weapon drills were finished, I had retreated to my office, with more instructions to my team not to disturb me. The audio was set, the message poised to send. Now all I needed was my audience.

I had a moment of doubt as I sat there. Was this going too far? But then I remembered Malcolm's malicious pleasure when he told me what those lozenges were. My stomach gave a now familiar lurch.

Uh oh, not now, dammit! Think warp fields, pretty warp fields…

That wasn't an isolated incident either, was it? Malcolm had found out soon enough how I feel about bugs, and took full advantage of the fact. I had had uneasy dreams about giant bore worms for weeks after he had gleefully told me about them. And they weren't the first, or last, alien bugs he had brought to my attention so I could take 'proper precautions'. Yeah. Right.

This was not a healthy train of thought! If I didn't take care, I'd need the bathroom again. However, any queasiness vanished in an instant as soon as I heard Malcolm enter his quarters.

There was the noise of a door opening and soft footfalls. I increased the audio gain - I didn't want to miss anything, after all. Now I could hear a tuneless, cheery humming. Clearly, the mayhem Malcolm had wreaked on those poor, defenseless asteroids had put him in good spirits. Now, personally, I think it's kinda unsporting to take pleasure in attacking something that can't fight back, but he's so unprincipled, it didn't surprise me.

But if he was on a high, that was all to the good. My premiere would make a bigger impact - no need for phase cannons, here!

The humming resolved itself into a jaunty tune. What was it? I knew it, but couldn't quite place it. Then Malcolm added in the odd word. Aha. Got it. He was humming 'Singin' in the Rain'! I glanced at the duplicate list the Captain had sent me earlier 'in case the other gets mislaid, Trip'. Yeah - it was on the list. Malcolm was being taken over by musicals. I laughed quietly to myself at that unlikely thought.

That gave me an idea. If water polo was out of the question, I just might happen to mention to the Captain that Malcolm just might want to watch musicals with him. Yeah - that was a plan for the future with possibilities. Hhmm. _Excellent _possibilities, the more I thought about it. The Captain - and Malcolm, too, of course - could have private showings, and the remainder of us could carry on with our usual superior program. Get out of that, Mister Reed!

I heard Malcolm in the bathroom. Then he came out and I heard some more movement, but I couldn't figure out what was happening.

I heard a grunt and then some tapping away at the keys of his terminal. _"Not bloody likely,"_ he muttered. There was more tapping, with a final louder tap to finish.

"Talking to yourself, Malcolm?" I said. "Or are you hallucinating again?" Of course, he couldn't hear me. It was a one-way audio channel only. I had made very certain of that. A soft tone indicated I had got a message - from Malcolm.

He had rejected my contention that our Movie Night deal was invalid. He would be going ahead regardless.

Why didn't that surprise me?

I wrote out a response: _'Malcolm - I don't care if you are sitting there humming 'Singin' in the Rain' or working on some other part of the Captain's list. Our deal is off! (Let's face it - it was never on.)' _

If he persisted, I was going to show 'Aliens' next. We could go head-to-head and see who got the biggest audience. And the best post-movie reaction.

I sent my reply straightaway. Sure enough, there was a bleep at Malcolm's end. I heard him take a sharp breath and swear. I could almost hear the synapses snapping shut in his brain. He would be wondering how I knew about the exact song he was singing, and then dismissing it as paranoia, but being not quite sure.

I heard a soft chuckle. He had got to the conclusion about the same time as me. Except this time, he was wrong. He _was_ being monitored.

"Sweet," I said. I've got no worries about talking to myself. I'm a good listener.

I had the main message all lined up ready to go. I switched the audio channel to 'recording' to be sure I didn't miss getting a thing - I was going to record Malcolm's commentary, then splice it on top of the video. I wondered what insightful comments he might have on my masterpiece. The extras are always the best parts, I reckon.

I took one last look to check all was okay, and then I sent the package on its way with a decisive keystroke. I heard it arrive in Malcolm's quarters.

He gave a startled grunt. _"A Home Movie?"_ he said, reading out the title.

Y'know, I thought he could read without having to sound out the words, but you live and learn.

Though, I dunno - perhaps he was talking to his blasted beagle?

He must've pressed 'start' because the music began.

I began my own video copy playing in tandem, so I could see how Malcolm's sound effects matched up with what he was seeing.

He started with a loud volley of swearing as he saw the initial security cam footage. Mixed in with it were some sentiments regarding breaches of security and leaks. I hope whoever had given it to Travis had hidden their tracks.

I could never tire of my movie, and Malcolm watched it all the way through as well, with a more or less continuous outpouring of venom - except during the rear shot of T'Pol. He was glaringly silent for that part.

With the final triumphant scene, the movie finished with a Bronx cheer fanfare.

Malcolm carried on cursing and I carried on recording. Despite what he might admit to in public, Malcolm does have an impressive and varied vocabulary when required.

Then I heard a few intelligible words. 'Travis', 'Bloody Travis', 'Trip' and so on. I wondered how much credit Travis had the nerve to accept. After all, he was the one who had gotten hold of the raw footage. I was the one with the creative input. We made a good team. How about… 'Enterprising Productions'? 'Nightmareworks'? 'TripTrav Creations'?

_"We'll see about this!"_ growled Malcolm, pulling me out of my reverie. He was getting ready to find a victim. I wondered briefly if I should leave it there, but then I recalled all the things he had done and decided to press on with my original devastating plan of action.

I quickly matched up my audio recording with the video, re-named the file and re-sent it. I wanted him to get the full benefit before he came looking for vengeance. It would give me the high ground. I would be cool, calm and collected, and Malcolm would be too worked up to think straight, for once. It was a good tactical move, I told myself - yeah, even engineers can be tactical. Um. It was a good move, wasn't it?

There was no time for doubts.

I heard the message being received. Malcolm swore again. _"With Added Commentary?"_ he muttered, perplexed. It started to play.

This was most amusing. Now I was getting two tracks of Malcolm – live _and_ recorded. It was an interesting exercise to find out how similar his vocabulary pattern was the second time round. How much correlation was there? Now there was the subject for a paper. I laughed to myself. This was going better than I could have hoped.

Malcolm was still rambling on but eventually the penny dropped. I had expected him to realize earlier, but I think he had been thrown for a loop by it all. Perhaps he still thought he was hallucinating! That made me bellow out loud.

_"Wait a minute,"_ Malcolm said. The playback stopped. Then I heard him moving around - searching for eavesdropping devices, I guessed. Then I heard some scrabbling and more movement. He was probably searching for bugging equipment aided by a scanner. He didn't find anything - there was no bugging device to find.

I heard him swear, quickly cutting himself off.

There was some more noise, a scraping, some metallic clicks, and then the most appalling screech. It almost lacerated my eardrums! He'd cross-connected the comm circuit to give feedback.

The noise stopped abruptly.

I heard Malcolm, loud and clear, a truly venomous tone to his voice. _"Let me guess? Mister Tucker, isn't it? Using your position to invade my privacy, huh? Two can play at that game, Commander. I am going to put you down for essential training every day for the next fortnight - that's two weeks to you - and no getting out of it this time. Then, when I have booked you in, I am coming to get you. Watch your back!"_

Uh oh. I bit my lip. But I knew what I was doing… didn't I? And what could he do - really? I mean, I outranked him, didn't I? He was hardly going to go whining to the Captain. And he deserved it. I held that thought firm. I was in the right. He would not be able to deny it.

I sat back and prepared myself for battle.

x - x - x

Sooner than I'd have thought possible, a wild English whirlwind swept into my office, followed by a worried Engineering Crewman Raj.

"That will be all, Crewman," snarled Malcolm, not even bothering to look at the man.

"Sir?" said Raj to me. My team can be quite protective of me at times. I like to think I inspire loyalty, but perhaps it is merely the alternative is an unsettling prospect. Hess can be a tad alarming on occasion.

"That's okay, Crewman," I said. "The Lieutenant and I will be fine." At least, I hoped so. I had my desk between us, after all. In the Old West they sometimes fixed a revolver to the underside of a table to give them, an edge. Damn - I wished I'd remembered that sooner.

Malcolm snorted but he held his tongue until Raj had left. Then he let rip.

"This is unacceptable, Commander," he said, slamming a hand down on my desktop -thankfully it is of sturdy design. "Listening in to my private conversations - how long has that been going on, anyway? And misappropriating security video streams for… trivial, not to say, most unprofessional usage."

"Private conversations! I like that! Who were you talking to? Your beagle!"

His right cheek twitched uncontrollably. He yelled, "Now look… I've had just about enough of that, all right? It wasn't my fault and I was ill. So why can't you give it a rest?"

My poor desk suffered another whack.

I shot to my feet and roared back, "I will, Malcolm, when you stop interfering in my business. At least what I did didn't affect anyone except your own self-image. You, on the other hand, have completely disrupted the running of Engineering today. You didn't even apologize! Do you know how much extra work you've caused for my people, huh? I bet you don't, and you don't even care!"

He drew breath to shoot back a response, but then held it and let it out slowly. He blinked a few times. I could almost see his temper lessen as he processed my words. He stepped back a pace and tugged at his uniform cuffs. Then he spoke more quietly. "I didn't realize at the time, no. I apologize. It was not my intention to land you with unnecessary work. However, I did check with the Captain first."

"But you know that isn't sufficient. Why didn't you ask me?"

He twisted his mouth, obviously uncomfortable. "I knew you might object-"

I grunted. Now the truth came out.

Malcolm grimaced, "-and I was excited about being able to get some significant work done on the cannons-"

"And the torpedoes," I added.

He gave me the slightest smile. "And the torpedoes," he agreed. "You know me too well, Commander. Anyway, it was essential I got to try the cannons at increased output power - to track any frequency shifts and knock-on effects on targeting. I didn't know when the Captain would give me such a great opportunity again." He gave a wry grimace. "It isn't the highest priority with him."

I knew the Captain's views on it, too - Malcolm was on the nose with that observation.

I actually started to feel sorry for Malcolm: his explosive self-expression hampered by an unappreciative Captain. I shook my head - sympathy for the enemy - that wouldn't do at all!

I said accusingly, "And you told me about those lozenges!" That was the part that truly rankled with me. That he could subject me to that horror. Well… I swallowed as nausea threatened once more. I quickly thought about warp field patterns again - something more wholesome.

Malcolm gave a guilty smile. "I wasn't going to mention it. I confess I did know it would freak you out, but you annoyed me so damned much, I couldn't help myself. I do most sincerely apologize for that, as well. If it's any consolation, I wasn't too thrilled, either, to discover what Phlox had given me. And I ate a lot more of them."

Oh, an apology for that too, huh? And he sounded like he meant it. But I had yet more to cover with him.

"And Malcolm, you were scary yesterday, you know. I was worried about you, and then for you to say you hadn't wanted my help… it was a real slap in the face."

He was embarrassed. "I was scary? I can remember bits of it, but it all seemed… a little dreamlike, to be honest. Except for the part where the beagle stalked me with its phase pistol and there was nowhere to hide." He looked at me seriously. "That _was_ scary!"

I didn't know how to respond to that. The image was so comical, but then, hadn't Malcolm just said he wanted to forget about this?

He laughed. "It's okay, Trip. I can see the funny side. There's no reason for you to avoid the topic, but I would prefer it if you didn't mention it quite so much. It gets rather tiresome."

"Yeah. I can see it would."

He gave a tentative smile. "Anyway. Thank you for sorting me out yesterday. Who knows what might've happened if you hadn't intervened. We might not be laughing about it at all."

"That's okay. I couldn't let you blast Porthos into pieces."

"Ouch. No." He winced, and then added ruefully, "Seems like we're not so mad at each other now."

"Uh huh. Uhh, I'm sorry if the 'Home Movie' went too far. It was only supposed to be fun."

"Like the betting pool?" His voice hardened again.

"Malcolm…"

He waved a dismissive hand. "Oh, forget it. I'm sure there'll be someone else to bet on soon."

Umm. Well, normally these events do revolve around Malcolm, but I wasn't going to spoil the moment and tell him that, was I?

He gave a wry smile and added, "After all, I have to confess, I usually have a few quid on when you're the subject."

"Yeah…"

Hold on. What did he mean… when I'm the subject? Why… Just wait till I get a hold of Travis!

Malcolm grinned. "Nice job on the 'Home Movie', although I do think you should've made more of my heroic nature! As if I would run away from Smith! But what was that about T'Pol's catsuit?"

I chortled. "Didn't you hear? Apparently her catsuits include vegetable matter in the fabric, and that rooting compound Smith sprayed her with caused it to sprout! That was what that time-lapse stuff was. It was all genuine!"

"Good Lord! Really? Well, thank you for that. At least your film had a redeeming educational point for me."

"Speaking of 'films', Malcolm…"

He crossed his arms. "Our deal stands, Trip. I have already spent considerable time sorting out my Movie Night program. I hope you are not going to make me change it."

I had a sinking feeling. Perhaps I'd better let him carry on? How bad could it be – really? I said, "What are you planning to start with?"

"There are several military history documentaries that will be useful for everyone to see. I'm going to alternate with some new action films and of course the Captain's musical selections." He reeled off his plan for movie domination with the decisiveness he brings to his mission planning.

It sounded absolutely appalling. It would chase my audience away for good! Who would ever want to risk subjecting themselves to a Movie Night again, whoever was running it? I said carefully, "Movie Night is supposed to be for classic movies, y'know."

"I realize that," Malcolm said curtly.

"So that rules out 'Die Hard 32'." Not too mention 'military history documentaries'.

"Die Hard 32: the Remake'!"

"Yeah. I keep forgetting."

"I don't see why that doesn't count. It is a modern classic, isn't it?"

This was too much. He just didn't get it – never would.

"Malcolm - I'm sorry. I can't do it." I couldn't let him destroy my baby. "I don't think our deal does stand because I don't understand a word of your explanation as to how you got out of water polo. I will be scheduling Movie Night from now on in."

He chewed at his lower lip, eyes narrowed in thought. He made another offer. "Tell you what, ask me whatever you need to, to clarify matters, and the deal can stand."

Oh, I was so, so tempted. But I had had been gifted a vision of the Movie Nights yet to come, and I couldn't do it. How could I expect an audience to trust me if I allowed Malcolm to show 'Fifty Ways to Strip Down a Phase Cannon', or whatever scintillating alternative he had lined up for them?

I shook my head. "I do appreciate what you are saying, Malcolm, but no - I'm sorry. Your selection powers are rescinded."

He took it well. He nodded. "Fair enough. I can see you are uncomfortable with my radical approach to scheduling. Too avant garde, I guess."

W-what? Was he trying to tell me this was the future? I shuddered. Not on this ship, it wasn't, even if it did mean we would get no prizes for art house presentations.

I sighed. So - I had played my hand and lost. No - make that, come out even. I had hoped to get one over on Malcolm, but that was not to be. Que sera, sera… oh no - now I was getting infected by musicals as well _and_ becoming philosophical. This was not good!

Malcolm said, "You were really keen to discover how I had managed to avoid the water polo, weren't you?"

"Yeah. I guess I was - silly of me." And I meant it. If he didn't want to tell me, it was his business. In all probability, it wasn't anything I would be interested in, anyhow.

"Right, then." Malcolm pursed his lips, gave a quick bob of his head and started for the door. Then he then paused and turned to face me once more.

"Trip - I do appreciate all your help, most particularly when I was off my rocker. I will tell you what happened at breakfast yesterday."

I started to protest.

He said, "No – it's okay. I don't expect anything in return. Nothing except discretion, because only the Captain, and now Phlox, know about this, and I would prefer to keep it confidential."

He gazed at me seriously. Whatever it was, this meant a lot to him.

I said, "I won't tell a soul - you have my word."

He prepared himself, studying the floor. Then he lifted his gaze to look me square in the eye, and said, "I have aquaphobia-"

I was stunned. "Isn't that a symptom of rabies!" - Not Porthos! The poor puppy!

Malcolm gave an impatient snort. "No. Aquaphobia is a fear of drowning." He looked at me levelly to see what I made of this revelation. I caught a glimpse of… disgust, I think, in his gray eyes. Self-disgust.

I gazed at him in a new light. "I had no idea you suffered from that."

He gave a thin smile. "I am a man of many secrets," he said self- mockingly. I guess he realizes how difficult it is to get to know him.

I remembered all the times he had talked about the Royal Navy and his family traditions. This was not 'merely' a phobia - this was a crucial part of Malcolm Reed. I felt honored he had trusted me with it. How much had it affected his life? I mused, "I bet it caused you problems…"

Malcolm gave a snort of agreement. "I'll say! Not least at breakfast yesterday. The Captain played the water polo vid and it triggered something. I panicked and somehow ended up tripping over my own two feet. I knocked myself out cold! How stupid can you get!"

"But didn't the Captain know about your aquaphobia beforehand?"

"Yeah, he knew but it didn't occur to him there would be any difficulty. Why should it - it didn't occur to me either!" Malcolm shook his head. "I felt really sorry for him. He thought he was doing me a favor, and then that happened. He was feeling pretty guilty about it."

"Oh." Hence gunnery practice for the first time in ages. Malcolm _had_ had a tough day yesterday.

"Yeah. I offered to resign as Armory Officer, you know." He said it utterly calmly, as if it was the most reasonable thing in the world.

I was shocked. "What? Why! You can't!"

"Oh, I haven't, don't worry. The Captain wouldn't hear of it. But who knows when it might cause me a problem carrying out my duties. It's a weakness, isn't it?"

"But that's ridiculous. We're in space! There're no oceans out here."

"Did the Captain speak to you about it? That's just what he said."

"No. He's not said a thing – he's been the soul of discretion. But it's true, isn't it, and besides, everyone has their weaknesses." I thought about bore worms again and shuddered.

Malcolm lifted his eyebrows. "So - now you know why I won't be enduring water polo."

"Yeah. I won't tell anyone."

He smiled. "I know you won't. Thank you, Trip." He made his way toward the door. "Oh, by the way…"

"Yeah?"

"I recommend you put in a few gym sessions before our combat training starts next week. It's going to be pretty intensive."

He gave me a huge grin as he disappeared out the door - the personification of the Cheshire Cat - and left me gaping after him.

Why, the devious sonofabitch… I'd forgotten all about that! I could've traded it away somehow with all the guilt I'd laid on him. Damnation!

Right - that did it! 'Aliens' next week and 'Event Horizon' the following week. With any luck some after-movie crazed audience member - or members if I was very fortunate - might put him out of commission for the next couple of weeks.

I wondered if Travis had any ideas on how to encourage that.

I knew I'd better start planning. And decide who is going to be fortunate enough to see my Home Movie. Let's see... that would be: Travis, everyone in Engineering...

* * *

END

* * *

A/N: So - there it is: Trip's view of the events of 'Operation Bamboozle' Part 3 and beyond. It was a blast to write and I'm glad it brought amusement to all you wonderful reviewers. I've appreciated every one of those reviews. 

With thanks to:

Rinne, Cha Oseye Tempest Thrain, Tata, CapriceAnnHedican-Kocur, RoaringMice, G.Eliot, pip, Exploded Pen, Orlando's elven princess, Luna, Reedie, Shrekster, Lt. Black Fire, Eva, PJ in NH, Archer's Ensign and Rusty Armour.

And another mention and huge appreciation for G.Eliot, who found time in an insanely busy schedule to help me with this story, and who gave me the confidence to launch my version of Trip on unsuspecting readers!


End file.
